IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


A 


'^^  ^<^ 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


■u 

lit 


14.0 


■  2.2 
2.0 


U    IIIIII.6 


6" 


V] 


<^ 


yfy 


^> 


Hiotographic 

Sciences 
Corporalion 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEmSTER.N.Y.  14580 

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n 


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toth( 

C 
I 

Thei 
possi 
of  th 
filmii 


Origi 
begii 
the  li 
sion, 
othei 
first 
sion, 
or  illi 


The  I 
shall 
TINL 
whic 

Mapi 
diffe 
entir 
begii 
right 
requ 
metl 


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10X 

14X 

18X 

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26X 

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/ 

( 

1 

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32X 

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premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc..  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  i  des  taux  de  r6duction  diff6rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
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de  Tangle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


12  3 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

i' 


(  i!^}' 


■% 


LITTLE  "JIM  CROW" 


r* 


'•    ain't  you  got  no  nrrroxs  in  all  dis  big  stor  '. 


»';>•) 


f 


m 


(X'^^ 


LITTLE  "JIM  CROW" 


n 


1/ 


AND  OTHER  STORIES  OF 
CHILDREN 


BY 

CLARA  MORRIS 

AUTHOR   OF    "A    SILENT    SINGER" 


// 


'/ 


NEW  YORK 
THE  CENTURY  CO.     , 

1899 

Property  of  the  Library 
University  of  Waterloo 


Copyright,  1898,  1899,  by 
The  Century  Co. 

Copyright,  1807,  by  UonKRT  Bonnkr's  Sonb 

Copyriglit.  1H09.  l)y  Curtis  Pdrlirhino  Co. 

Copyright,  1897,  by  Ci.ara  Morris 


M  "B  3 


-V 


The  DeVinne  Press. 


TO 
DR.  JOHN  McENTEE  WETMORE 

Revered  Physician  and  Loyal  Friend 
I  Gratefully  Dedicate  this  Book 


CLARA  MORRIS  HARRIOTT 


(i 


I. 

11 


CONTENTS 

TAOK 

Little  *^Jim  Crow" ix 

My  Pirate 39 

"Shins" 01 

"My  Mr.  Edward" 71 

The  Gallant  Theophilus 103 

A  Pretty  Plan .  125 

An  Amateur  Santa  Glaus  .     .     .     .     .  143 

"Marty  Many-Things" 155 

A  Little  Royal  Princess  .     .     .     .     .  179 
The  Princess  Porcelain    .     .   , .     .     .195 

The  Hermits 207 


Vll 


/»:/•? 


LITTLE  "JIM  CROW 


99 


..^ 


-"^a 


LITTLE  "JIM  CROW 


55 


'•  n 


A 


\      A; 


HE  strange  power  which  or- 
dains that  each  member  of  a 
colored  family  should  be  of  a 
different  shade  from  every 
other  member  must  have  been  in  full 
force  when  little  "Jim  Crow's"  case  was 
under  consideration,  for  he  was  black- 
uncompromisingly  black. 

He  had  a  buff  sister,  a  brown  mother, 
and  a  red-brown  brother ;  but,  for  all  that, 
his  own  smooth,  fine-grained  skin  was 
decidedly  black. 

Jim  Crow,  by  the  way,  was  not  Jim 
Crow,  save  by  the  grace  of  a  woman's 
whim— mine,  to  be  exact.  He  was  Wil- 
liam Jones,  or  had  been  until  my  eye  fell 
upon  him,  when  I  instantly  hailed  him  as 
my  little  "Jim  Crow,"  a  name  which  his 
mother,  our  cook,  soon  adopted;  the 
neighborhood  followed  suit,  and  he  him- 


2 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


i 


self  seemed  to  regard  it  as  an  honorary 
title  to  be  proud  of. 

He  was  as  pretty  as  a  little  eupid.  He 
had  all  the  malicious  mischievousness  of 
a  monkey  old  in  sin,  allied  to  the  bound- 
less love  of  life  of  a  young  puppy.  He 
could  sing,  he  could  dance,  he  could  climb, 
turn  somersaults,  stand  on  his  woolly 
head,  and  did  a  surprising  amount  of  his 
walking  upon  his  hands,  with  heels  in  air. 

The  house  we  lived  in  belonged  to  an 
uncle  who  had  formerly  been  the  mayor 
of  New  York,  this  fact  being  proved  by 
the  presence  of  two  extra  lamps  before  the 
front  door,  gas  being  the  medium  through 
which  that  city  honors  its  chief  officer. 
These  very  large  lamps  in  their  tall  stan- 
dards, and  the  broa^l  stone  steps  they 
flanked,  were  immediately  turned  by  my 
little  Jim  Crow  into  a  sort  of  private  gym- 
nasium. 

My  husband,  like  every  one  else,  was 
fond  of  this  tiny  black  man,  but  he  never 
gave  his  entire  approval  to  this  gymna- 
sium business.  He  did  not  mind,  for  him- 
self;   his  conscience   was  clear  and  his 


I 

! 

i 


■*■>■■.  I,.- ^- 


VM 


V 


orary 

He 

ss  of 
ound- 
He 

limb, 

coolly 

>f  his 

a  air. 

to  an 

layor 

'd  bv 

•ethe 

ough 

3ficei*. 

scan- 

they 

'  my 

?ym- 

was 
ever 
ana- 
lim- 

his 


LITTLE   ''JIM  CROW*  8 

nerves  steady;  but  some  of  our  friends 
had  nerves  that  were  not  always  under 
perfect  control.  These  people  were  apt 
to  feel  a  sort  of  knee-loosening  shock  at 
being  suddenly  addressed  by  a  person 
hanging  upside  down  somewhere  over 
their  heads.  : 

With  his  toes  inside  the  lamp,  his  head 
hanging  down,  and  his  arms  all  abroad, 
Jim  Crow  looked  like  some  strange  foreign 
fruit  which  had  failed  to  ripen. 

One  poor  lady  was  brought  to  the  point 
of  smelling-salts,  wine,  and  much  fanning, 
through  seeing,  as  she  declared,  "a  very 
small  person  coming  down  your  steps,  my 
dear,  who  had  no  head !  "—Jim  Crow  in 
the  dusk  having  been  practising  walking 
on  his  hands. 

All  the  marked  characteristics  of  his 
strange  race  could  be  learned  from  this 
small  black  volume.  Here  was  the  love 
of  music,  dance,  and  color,  the  boastful- 
ness,  the  intense  devotion  to  special  mem- 
bers of  the  white  race,  the  easy,  graceful 
romancing,  the  warm-hearted  generosity, 
with  the  occasional  gleams  of  treachery, 


'vTT 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


H 


all  cropping  out  in  this  tiny  black  man  of 
five  years. 

Both  his  mother  and  sister  were  in  our 
employ,  and  between  them  Jim  Crow  re- 
ceived "more  kicks  than  ha'pence,"  and 
more  cuffs  than  kisses. 

Injustice  sometimes  stirred  him  to  re- 
venge, and  then— I  think  I  have  said  he 
was  generous,  but  never,  never  did  he 
show  such  cheerfully  boundless  generosity 
as  when  he  was  "giving  away"  his 
mother  and  his  sister.  The  methods  of 
his  betrayals  were  amusing  in  the  ex- 
treme, since  he  invariably  set  them  to 
music.  Usually  he  sang  his  ac  usations 
to  the  tune  of  an  old  Methodist  hymn. 

On  one  occasion,  a  large,  imposing 
chicken-pie  had  been  built  and  furnished 
forth  on  Monday,  and  on  Tuesday  my  lord 
and  master  desired  its  presence,  that  he 
might  make  an  assault  upon  it. 

But  there  was  no  chicken-pie ! 

"Why?    What?    What  has  become  of 
it?"  was  the  next  inquiry. 
,    "  The  rats  ate  it,  sir ! " 

We    shuddered.     What     awful     rats! 


lan  of 

In  our 
>w  re- 
I"  and 

|to  re- 
id  he 
id  he 
rosity 
'  his 
ds  of 
e  ex- 
m  to 

itions 
n. 

osing 
ished 
''  lord 
it  he 


le  of 


ats ! 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW"  6 

What  size,  what  ferocity !  To  be  able  to 
demolish  such  a  structure,  and  in  one 
night ! 

Two  days  later  my  mother  had  occasion 
to  press  out  some  lace  for  me,  and  Jim 
Crow  at  once  placed  himself  by  the  iron- 
ing-board. He  stood  upon  one  bare  foot, 
and  tenderly  stroked  his  shin  with  the 
pale  sole  of  the  other  foot,  now  and  then 
pausing  a  moment  to  scratch  the  calf  of 
his  leg  with  a  slow  and  thoughtful  toe; 
and  while  doing  this  he  sang  in  his  sweet 
child's  voice  these  words,  to  the  tune  of 
"  Old  Hundred  " : 

"  Rats,  rats,  rats,  rats,  rats,  rats ! 
Little  rats,  big  rats,  bigger  rats  I 
Some  more-ore  rats ! " 

The  continued  repetition  of  that  one 
word  attracted  her  attention,  as  it  was  in- 
tended to  do,  and  the  moment  her  eyes 
met  his  maliciously  sparkling  ones  there 
flashed  into  her  mind  the  memory  of  cer- 
tain cries  and  lamentations  which  had 
issued  from  the  basement  that  very  morn- 


6 


LITTLE    "JIM  CROW' 


ing,  and  she  understood  that  this  was  to 
be  revenge ;  in  fact,  Jim  Crow  was  chant- 
ing his  war-song : 

"  — i*ats,  rats,  rats ! 
Sometimes  rats  eat  things ; 
Sometimes  they  don^t ! " 

A  quick,  angiy  voice  from  the  next 

room  suddenly  cried: 

"  You  Jim  Crow,  come  in  yere ! " 

But  Jim   Crow   sang   s^.^'eetly  though 

somewhat  hurriedly  on : 

"  Eats  eats  some  chicken-pies,  not  ours.'^ 

Voice:  "Jim  Crow,  are  yer  coming?" 
"  Rats  did  n*t  eat  our  chicken-pie ! " 

A  large  brown  hand  was  thrust  through 
the  doorway ;  it  grasped  Jim  Crow  by  the 
back  of  his  wee  shirt  and  dragged  him  out 
of  the  room  backward;  but  even  as  he 
made  that  unwilling  and  ignominious  exit, 
he  shouted  loud  and  clear  his  last  line : 

"  Naygars  eat  dat  pie !  Naygars  eat  it  all  I " 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


Shortly  after  the  pie  episode  I  found 
Jim  Crow  holding  in  his  arms  some  small 
object  upon  which  he  lavished  the  tender- 
est  terms  of  endearment.  As  soon  as  he 
saw  me  he  gave  the  three  standing  jumps 
and  the  whoop  which  were  his  usual  morn- 
ing gi'eeting,  then  exclaimed : 

"  Now,  den,  honey,  stan'  on  yo'  foots,  an' 
show  yersel'  to  MiSS  Cla'h !  " 

"Honey"  obeyed.  It  seemed  like  a 
sneer  at  misery  to  call  the  creature  a 
kitten.  As  it  wavered  toward  me  on  its 
weak  little  legs,  and  piteously  raised  its 
one  green  and  only  eye  to  my  face,  I  felt 
the  tears  coming.  In  the  scheme  of  its 
structure  fur  had  not  been  considered  an 
important  item,  and  flesh  had  not  been 
considered  at  all;  but  the  amount  of  tail 
used  in  the  make-up  of  that  one  small  slip 
of  a  cat  was  something  wonderful.  I  took 
up  the  little  scrap  of  metropolitan  misery, 
and  a  vibration  in  its  skinny  throat  told 
me  it  was  trying  to  purr,  but  was  literally 
too  weak  to  make  a  sound;  though  when 
I  obtained  some  warm  milk  for  it,  its  sav- 
age hunger  forced  it  to  clamber  into  the 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


dish,  where  it  stood  ankle-deep  in  the 
strength-giving  fluid. 

While  pussy  was  engaged  in  the  milk- 
storage  business,  Jim  Crow  conversed 
pleasantly  on  the  peculiarities  of  cats  in 
their  relations  to  the  different  races  of 
men,  white  or  black.  With  a  wise  wag  of 
his  head,  he  remarked : 

"Miss  Cla'h,  dat  ain't  no  white  man's 
cat." 

"  Why  ?"  I  asked. 

He  gave  me  a  surprised  look,  and  an- 
swered: "Hain't  got  eyes  enuf.  White 
man's  cat  always  has  two  eyes." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  it  's  a  dreadfully  ugly 
little  thing.    I  am  sure  no  one  wants  it." 

Then  was  Jim  Crow  angry.  With  his 
brows  knit  and  his  under  iip  thrust  out, 
he  had  for  a  moment  an  expression  as 
black  as  his  skin.  But  it  lasted  only  a 
moment ;  then  the  roguish  look  was  back, 
and  with  his  usual  white-toothed  smile  he 
exclaimed:  "Miss  Cla'h,  don'  you  know 
dat  cat 's  a  niggah  man's  cat !  Wh-wh- 
why,  dat 's  a  lucky  cat ;  an',  Miss  Cla'h—" 
He  stopped  to  put  his  finger  in  his  mouth, 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


9 


hung  his  head,  and  worked  one  foot  round 
and  round  a  figure  in  the  carpet;  then, 
with  a  world  of  persuasion  in  his  voice,  of 
entreaty  in  his  dark  eyes,  he  laid  a  little 
pleading  hand  on  my  knee,  and  almost 
whispered,  "Miss  Cla'h,  dat  little  cat  wiv 
one  eye  'u'd  jist  'bout  suit  me  to  deff." 

That  ended  it.  Jim  Crow  had  his  way, 
and  his  cat.  A  few  days  later  there  was 
to  be  seen,  walking  slowly  around  the 
gi'ass-plot,  a  very  small  cat  which  had  the 
appearance  of  having  swallowed  whole  a 
large,  hard,  and  very  round  apple,  so  dis- 
tended were  her  sides,  so  thin  her  frame. 

I  wish  I  could  say  I  never,  never  had 
cause  to  regret  my  kind  act,  but  as  a 
strictly  truthful  woman  I  cannot  say  it. 
You  see,  this  was  an  ash-barrel  cat,— one 
should  always  remember  that,— and  she 
("Misery"  was  her  name,  though  Jim 
Crow  always  called  her  "  Mis'sy  ")  matured 
early.  Almost  before  we  knew  it.  Misery 
had  the  reputation  of  being  able  to  spit 
farther  at  one  hiss,  tear  longer  splinters 
out  of  the  fences,  sing  more  ear-piercing 
songs,  and  give  a  more  soul-harrowing 


T.  T 


10 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


A 


high  C  than  any  cat  on  tho  block,  bar 
none.  But  thoro!  let  's  have  done  with 
Misery  (would  we  could!);  it  's  of  Jim 
Crow  I  would  speak. 

When  ho  became  a  member  of  our 
household  he  had  a  limited  wardrobe  and 
absolutely  no  manners,  so  I  proceeded  to 
add  something  to  his  outfit  in  both  direc- 
tions. He  was  bright,  quick,  and  had  a 
good  memory,  and  if  he  could  only  be 
kept  still  long  enough  to  absorb  your 
meaning  he  was  nearly  sure  to  remember 
your  lesson. 

But  he  gave  me  some  trying  moments, 
I  must  confess.  For  instance,  while  I 
would  be  trying  to  explain  to  him  those 
laws  of  politeness  which  rule  the  actions 
of  little  gentlemen,  Jim  Crow,  with  his 
eyes  fixed  solemnly  on  my  face,  would 
lean  his  elbows  on  my  knees,  and  kick 
himself  in  the  rear  with  a  vigor  and  rapid- 
ity truly  surprising.  On  one  of  these 
occasions  I  told  Jim  Crow  that  he  need 
not  do  that,  as  doubtless  through  his 
whole  life  other  people  would  do  the  kick- 
ing for  him.    This  greatly  amused  him; 


LITTLE  "JIM  CROW" 


11 


bar 
with 
Jim 


lio  laughcnl  iiiimodemtoly,  and  when  ho 
wont  down-stairs  ho  told  his  niothor  that 
"  Miss  Cla'h  said  that  ho  was  to  do  nutt'on, 
and  other  pussons  would  kick  holes  clean 
frou  his  life !  " 

And  thereupon  that  irascible  bondwo- 
man delivered  her  sentiments  to  the  effect 
that :  "  Law  sakes !  She  wished  dey  'u'd 
begin  right  away!  That  she  'd  like  to 
kick  him  full  o'  holes  herseP,  beca'so  o'  that 
ornery,  no-account,  one-eyed  cat  o'  hisn," 
etc. 

It  was  not  long  before  Jim  Crow  com- 
prehended that  certain  benefits  followed 
in  the  train  of  good  manners.  First  of 
all,  there  was  the  keen  delight  of  bowing 
deeply  and  gracefully  to  his  own  reflection 
in  the  basement  windows.  Then  there 
was  the  charm  of  hearing  his  own  voice 
declaiming  loudly  all  his  manners  in  one 
breath,  if  his  lungs  permitted  it,  thus: 
"  Yes,  sir ;  no,  sir ;  yes,  'um ;  no,  mum ;  if 
you  please ;  thank  yer ;  howdy  do  ?  good- 
by;  can  I  'sist  you?  is  there  anythin'  I 
can  do?"  Then  there  were  the  admir- 
ing exclamations,  not  unaccompanied  by 


lii 


I': 


(■      .■ 


?f 


i   • 


:i) 


12 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


nickels,  of  ladies  who  were  charmed  by 
his  deep  bow  and  the  graceful  sweep  of 
his  little  arm  as  he  removed  the  crown  of 
his  hat  before  them.  There  were  no  brims 
to  Jim  Crow's  hats,  and  I  feel  sure  that 
had  there  been  brims,  then  there  would 
have  been  no  crowns. 

I  also  led  Jim  Crow  a  short,  a  very- 
short,  distance  along  the  paths  of  educa- 
tion. He  could  count  up  to  six  with  tem- 
perate calmness,  but  beyond  that  point 
his  figuring  was  directed  by  an  absolutely 
tropical  imagination;  while  his  joyous 
greeting  of  A,  B,  C,  and  D  was  in  marked 
contrast  to  his  doubtful  acknowledgment 
of  E  and  his  absolute  non-recognition 
of  F. 

Only  a  modicum  of  his  time  was  spent 
in  pursuit  of  education  and  manners; 
the  other  part  he  gave  to  a  search  for 
some  new  way  of  almost  breaking  his 
neck. 

What  was  left  of  his  day  had  many 
claims  upon  it.  Misery  had  to  be  fed 
often  and  to  be  talked  to.  Everything  I 
tried  to  teach  Jim  Crow  up-stairs  he  tried 


namLrgifrj!^; 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


13 


to  teach  his  cat  down-stairs.  Then  he 
had  to  romance  a  good  deal  about  Misery 
to  the  neighboring  servants,  that  they 
might  be  brought  to  appreciate  all  her 
remarkable  qualities  as  a  lucky  cat. 

Besides  all  this,  he  had  to  exercise  that 
faculty  which  he  had  inherited  from  un- 
countable ancestors— the  faculty  of  sleep. 
If  his  growii-up  sister  slept  with  all  the 
stops  open,  leaning  against  any  largish 
piece  of  furniture  that  came  handy,  and 
his  mother— I  have  seen  her  standing 
before  a  chopping-bowl,  taking  a  refresh- 
ing nap,  with  her  hand  still  holding  the 
raised  knife.  When  she  awoke  the  knife 
descended;  operations  were  resumed. 
There  was  no  yawning,  no  rubbing  of 
eyes;  she  had  been  asleep,  she  was  now 
awake,  that  's  all,  and— "What  of  it?" 
Oh,  nothing,  Maria,  nothing!  I  am  only 
saying,  now,  that  if  the  grown-up  women 
required  this  refreshment,  how  much 
greater  was  the  need  of  Jim  Crow,  who 
was  burdened  with  the  additional  duty  of 
having  to  grow  a  little  bit  each  day, 
unless  he  wished  to  become  a  freak. 


14 


LITTLE   <'JIM  CROW" 


i 


$■ 
* 


\   I 


Therefore  it  was  not  surprising  to  find 
him  in  the  somewhat  ridgy  embrace  of 
the  willow  clothes-basket,  or  lying  across 
the  flagged  walk,  with  his  head  pillowed 
on  the  grass-plot,  or  sitting  upon  an  over- 
turned horse-bucket,  with  his  head  against 
the  stable  door,  and  his  face  lifted  up  full 
to  God's  great  search-light,  the  sun,  whose 
fierce  rays  brought  out  no  stain  of  sin, 
no  vestige  of  vice,  upon  the  black  little 
countenance,  innocent,  as  yet,  as  any 
white  baby's  in  the  land. 

In  the  winter  Jim  Crow's  favorite  place 
of  retirement  from  carking  cares  was  un- 
der the  kitchen  table,  well  back  against 
the  wall,  where  his  fingers  and  toes  were 
safe  from  the  far-reaching  "  tromp  "  of  the 
African  feet  about  him. 

With  his  head  painfully  close  to  the 
nearly  red-hot  range,  his  feet  in  the  direct 
and  icy  draft  of  an  outer  door,  he  would 
sleep  happy  and  comfortable.  Indeed,  he 
found  himself  so  comfortable  that  he  often 
remained  there  some  time  after  he  had 
awakened,  on  which  occasions  he  was  very 
apt  to  interject  certain  remarks  into  such 


LITTLE   ''JIM  CROW 


15 


conversation  as  was  going  on;  and,  odd 
as  it  may  seem,  these  remarks  were  rarely 
received  with  approbation  by  his  hearers. 
For  instance,  a  visitor  said,  one  day,  to 
his  mother: 

"Sis'  Jones,  whatever  yo'  gwine  to  do 
wiv  dat  yere  boy  o'  yourn  1 " 

To  which  Maria,,  utterly  oblivious  of 
Jim  Crow's  presence,  excitedly  replied : 

"Yo'  ast  me  dat.  Sis'  Jackson?  Yo' 
bettah  ast  me  w'at  he  's  gwine  to  do  wiv 
me.  He  's  dat  obstrep'rous  I  'se  clean 
frustrated  wiv  him.  I  'se  made  him  a 
subjeck  of  prayer,  I  has;  yaas,  'm;  I  'se 
been  down  on  my  old  knees,  and  prayed 
and  prayed—" 

Then  came  an  emphatic  young  voice 
from  under  the  table,  saying: 

"Why,  Mee-ri  er,  jo^  hain't  prayed  on 
yo'  knees  since  bef o'  I  was  born ! " 

However,  much  as  these  happenings 
might  amuse  us  up-stairs,  they  certainly 
did  not  endear  him  to  his  own  people  down- 
stairs, and  time  and  again  I  had  to  fling 
the  shield  of  my  authority  above  little 
Jim  Crow's  head  to  save  him  from  the 


10 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


vengeful  wrath  of  his  buff  and  sullen 
sister.  His  mother  was  not  to  be  feared. 
True,  she  "  barked  "  loudly  and  often ;  but 
her  "bite"  was  rare  and  exceeding  mild, 
for  you  see  she  was  his  mother,  even 
though  he  had  never  called  her  so.  To 
him  she  was  Maria,  only  he  had  the 
queerest  way  of  saying  it.  He  pro- 
nounced the  name  in  three  distinct  syl- 
lables, drawling  each  one  out,  and 
making  an  absolute  pause  between  the 
second  and  third,  something  like  this: 
"  Mee-ri  er." 

Poor  old  brown-black  mother!  w]io 
"never  had  no  time  down  in  Richmon', 
honey,  to  teach  chilluns  to  say  *muver,' 
but  was  called  by  'em  jus'  plain  ^ Maria.'" 

Of  all  Jim  Crow's  long,  long  busy  day, 
the  dearest,  sweetest  moments  were  those 
he  spent  with  the  white  children  of  the 
neighborhood.  They  were  all  the  cliildren 
of  the  rich  or  well-to-do,  and  the  love  and 
admiration  for  them  that  filled  his  honest 
little  heart  was  something  to  wonder  at. 
He  would  watch  so  longingly  for  them  to 
come  from  school,  and  as  they  appeared 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


17 


iveiV 

ia.' " 

^^y, 

fca 

hose 

hi 

the    -^ 

^■'^ 

iren 

and 

■) 

aest 

at. 

.1 

I  to 

red 

■? 

he  would  hug  himself  and  stamp  and 
shout  with  joy.  Then  he  would  rush  out 
and  turn  a  somersault  before  them,  after 
which  he  would  draw  back  to  the  side- 
walk's edge,  put  his  finger  to  his  mouth, 
and  smile  deprecatingly  at  them.  If  they 
laughed,  that  was  enough;  he  leaped, 
danced,  sang,  and  wore  himseK  completely 
out  for  their  amusement. 

Sometimes  the  boys  would  play  a  bit 
with  him,  when  the  child's  joy  was  simply 
boundless.  If  one  of  them  chanced  to  get 
dust  or  mud  on  his  garment,  Jim  Crow 
would  fly  to  the  rescue,  and  with  his 
quick  and  willing  little  hands  rub  away 
every  vestige  of  soil,  and  then  hug  him- 
self and  laugh. 

It  was  in  December  that  I  noticed  a 
growing  dullness  or  sadness  on  Jim  Crow's 
part,  and  at  about  the  same  time  I  ob- 
served the  absence  of  the  usual  noisy  after- 
noon group  of  youngsters  in  front  of  the 
house.  A  few  days  after  this,  on  return- 
ing from  my  drive,  I  was  shocked  to  see 
crouched  upon  my  door-step,  shivering 
like  a  little  homeless  cur,  my  Jim  Crow, 


18 


LITTLE   ''JIM  CROW" 


. 


\y.    I 


I 


I   * 


his  woolly  head  bent  down  upon  his  knees, 
and  all  his  little  body  shaken  and  strained 
by  convulsive  sobs.  I  lifted  him,  and  led 
him,  blindly  stumbling  as  he  walked,  into 
the  extension  at  the  back  of  the  dining- 
room,  that  we  might  be  quite  alone,  and, 
taking  off  my  cloak  and  hat,  I  began  to 
question  him. 

Was  he  sick?  A  shake  of  his  heavily 
drooping  head  was  his  only  answer.  Had 
his  sister  hurt  him?  Had  his  mother 
punished  him  ?  Still  that  vehement  shake 
of  the  head,  and  still  those  dreadful  sobs. 
At  last  I  cried :  "  It 's  Misery !  Jim  Crow, 
have  you  lost  Misery  ? " 

This  time  for  answer  he  impatiently 
raised  one  hand  and  pointed  through  the 
window.  I  turned  my  head  and  looked, 
and  there  stood  Misery  on  the  fence,  and 
her  arched  back  and  distended  tail  told 
me  quite  plainly  she  was  well  and  about 
to  try  some  new  music. 

What  was  I  to  do?  The  little  fellow 
had  fallen  forward  on  my  knee,  and  his 
grief  was  pitiful.  For  one  moment  North- 
ern shrinking  from  the  unaccustomed 
contact    held    me    back,    and    then    the 


?iS 


LITTLE  "JIM  CROW" 


19 


5  knees, 
trained 
and  led 
3d,  into 
dining- 
©,  and, 
gan  to 

leavily 
Had 
nother 
shake 
I  sobs. 
Crow, 

iently 
:h  the 
►oked, 
>,  and 
told 
ibout 

3II0W 
i  his 
)rth- 
med 
the 


i 


■i: 


woman's  pity  for  a  grieving  child  con- 
quered. He  was  but  a  baby,  and  I  took 
him  in  my  arms  and  let  him  hide  his  tear- 
stained,  sodden  little  face  upon  my  breast ; 
and  when  I  coaxed  him  once  again  to  tell 
me  what  was  the  matter,  he  raised  his 
poor  drowned  eyes  one  moment  to  my 
face,  and  gasped:  "Oh,  Miss  Cla'h,  dey, 
my  little  white  cuzzens,  won't  speak  to  me 
any  more!"  then  hid  his  face  again  in 
shame  and  sorrow.  Oh,  poor  black  baby ! 
I  had  a  hysterical  desire  to  laugh  at  the 
queer  degree  of  relationship  he  had  claimed 
with  the  white  children ;  yet,  in  spite  of 
that  desire,  I  saw  two  great  tears  shining 
on  the  woolly  head  upon  my  breast,  and 
knew  I  must  have  shed  them. 

Oh,  Jim  Crow !  Poor  little  man !  The 
gall  and  wormwood  that  are  ever  mixed 
in  black  blood  had  risen  that  day  for  the 
first  time  to  his  child's  lips,  and  he  had 
tasted  the  bitterness  thereof!  The  cruel 
lash  of  race  had  fallen  for  the  first  time 
across  his  baby  shoulders,  and  the  pain 
was  the  deeper  because  children's  hands 
had  given  the  blow ! 

Hitherto  it  had  been  an  easy  matter  to 


20 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


dispel  Jim  Crow's  troubles.  A  kind  word 
or  two,  a  penny,  a  promise  of  a  ride  around 
to  the  stable  on  the  coachman's  box— all 
these  had  proved  successful  in  the  past; 
while  for  a  whipping,  a  real  old-fashioned 
warming,  I  had  found  nothing  so  sooth- 
ing, so  strengthening  and  sustaining,  as  a 
large  piece  of  butter-scotch. 

But  now,  alas!  all  these  offers  were 
rejected.  I  talked  long  and  earnestly  to 
him,  telling  him  the  white  children  cared 
for  him  as  much  as  ever,  only  it  was 
almost  time  for  Santa  Claus  to  come,  and 
they  could  think  of  nothing  else  just  now. 
"  By  and  by  they  '11—"  But  no ;  it  would 
not  do.  One  well-dressed  little  savage 
had  struck  Jim  Crow  aside  with  rough 
words,  and  called  him  a  name  which, 
when  applied  in  anger  or  contempt,  will 
cut  to  the  very  heart  of  any  black  man  or 
woman  in  the  world,  and  rankle  there 
worse  than  any  word  of  contempt  or 
abuse  in  the  English  language— the  name 
"  Nigger." 

I  sat  for  a  little,  helpless ;  then  I  had  a 
veritable  inspiration. 


LITTLE    "JIM  CROW" 


21 


"  Jim  Crow,"  I  cried,  "  listen !    No,  no ; 
it  's  not  about  the  children;  it  's  some 
thing  else.    I  want  to  ask  you  something. 
Jim  Crow,  how  big  must  a  boy  be  to  have 
a  pair  of  long,  red-topped  boots  ? " 

Like  a  flash  came  his  answer : 

"  As  big  as  me ! " 

At  last  victory  perched  on  my  banner. 
I  had  won  his  attention.  At  that  very 
moment  Misery  began  the  first  wailing 
notes  of  a  duet  with  a  friend  in  dark 
gray,  who  sat  in  the  coal-box  next  door, 
and  Jim  Crow,  rubbing  his  tearful  eyes 
with  his  knuckles,  proudly  sighed : 

"  Mis'sy  can  yowl  the  loudest ;  can't  she, 
MissCla'h?" 

Needless  to  say,  I  agreed  with  him.  I 
should  have  done  so  anyway;  but  really 
and  truly  Misery  could  out-yowl  not  only 
her  young  friend  in  gray  and  the  old  gen- 
tleman in  rusty  black,— who  seemed 
to  have  charge  of  the  church  across  the 
street,  since  he  came  from  its  basement 
every  week-day  in  a  dusty  condition,  and 
washed  himself  habitually  on  its  lower 
steps," but  she  could  and  did  quite  sing 


22 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW 


II 


down  the  only  basso  in  the  block,  a  red- 
haired  party,  through  whose  sensitive 
whiskers  many  a  wintry  blast  had  blown, 
whose  torn  and  jagged  ears  and  fiercely 
rounded  yellow  eyes  betrayed  more  of  his 
real  nature  than  he  could  have  wished. 

So  you  see  her  master  really  had  some 
grounds  for  his  pride  in  Misery.  Some- 
times I  thought  he  might  be  right  in 
calling  her  a  lucky  cat.  She  had,  you 
know,  but  one  eye,  and  yet  her  power  of 
watchfulness  seemed  double  that  of  other 
ladies  of  her  race.  Her  ability  to  dodge 
rapidly  moving  objects  was  remarkable, 
particularly  when  bodies  were  torn  from 
their  natural  orbits,  so  to  speak,  and  came 
hurtUng  through  the  air.  On  one  occa- 
sion, very  late  at  night,  she  was  entertain- 
ing a  friend  on  the  veranda  steps ;  perhaps 
she  was  a  trifle  noisy  about  it.  At  any 
id/ie,  a  third-story  neighbor  hurled  a  great 
common  soap-dish  at  Misery's  head;  and 
she,  feeling  that  her  friend  could  see  this 
danger  with  two  eyes  as  well  as  she  could 
see  it  with  one  eye,  said  nothing,  but 
calmly  leaped  aside,  and  let  the  dish  go 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


S3 


whack  into  the  visitor's  ribs!  Many 
things  were  broken  that  night:  a  com- 
mandment, the  soap-dish,  a  friendship, 
and  three  ribs. 

I  had  encouraged  Jim  Crow  to  speak  as 
much  as  he  would  of  Misery's  virtues  and 
talents.  She  had  fewer  of  the  first  than 
the  last,  I  fear.  The  conversation  was 
beginning  to  lag  when  that  occurred 
which  put  an  end  to  it.  The  duet  was  in- 
terrupted by  the  swift  passing  of  about 
three  fourths  of  a  large  arctic  overshoe. 
Even  here  Misery  showed  her  superior 
nerve;  for  while  her  friend  in  the  gray 
suit  sprang  wildly  into  an  abandoned 
wash-boiler  for  protection.  Misery,  with 
truly  French  aplomb,  held  her  position 
on  the  fence- top,  spitting  at  all  hands  with 
an  energy  that  bordered  on  ferocity. 

I  saw  Jim  Crow's  mind  was  returning 
to  his  trouble,  so  I  hastily  brought  the 
boot  question  forward  again.  Once  more 
I  caught  his  attention,  and  we  proceeded 
to  discuss  most  thoroughly  the  question 
of  dress. 

I  am  afraid  I  did  not  understand  him  as 


24 


LITTtE   "JIM  CUOW" 


well  as  usual,  for  his  excited  and  minute 
description  of  what  he  most  admired  in 
clothing  left  the  impression  on  my  mind 
thnt  he  desired  greatly  a  suit  composed 
entirely  of  buttons. 

Our  interview  finally  ended  in  a  double- 
barreled  promise.  One  barrel  was  Jim 
Crow's  vow  not  to  make  any  advance 
whatever  to  the  white  children,  but  to 
answer  nicely  should  they  speak  to  him 
first.  In  return,  I  promised  to  buy  on  the 
very  next  day  a  suit  of  clothes  for  Jim 
Crow,  allowing  him  to  select  his  own  store 
and  his  own  suit.  This  being  settled, 
the  little  fellow  slipped  from  my  lap, 
made  me  his  profound  bow,  and  left  the 
room.  In  a  moment  I  heard  him  whizz 
down  the  banisters  on  the  way  to  the 
kitchen. 

Next  forenoon  I  sallied  foi  ili,  one  hand 
holding  a  pocket-book,  the  other  leading 
a  little  black  imp,  whose  gleaming  teeth, 
flashing  eyes,  and  roguish  face  caused 
every  one  to  smile  who  looked  at  him; 
and  many  turned  to  look  again. 

Once  he  released  my  hand,  and  for  a 


-^. 


LITTLE   ''JIM 


25 


moment  disappeared  behind  mo^  nmj^ 
most  directly  ho  was  back,  holding  ^vr>^ 
fingers  tightly,  and  dancing  along  the  ^^^^f}^* 
pavement  at  my  side.  It  was  very  shortly 
after  this  that  I  noticed  a  decided  broaden- 
ing in  the  smiles  we  met,  and  then,  yeS; 
the  smiles  became  laughter  behind  us. 
What  was  it?  I  glanced  at  my  reflection 
in  the  windows.  My  attire  seemed  all 
right ;  nothing  coming  off,  nothing  stick- 
ing to  me.  No;  it  was  Jim  Crow  they 
were  laughing  at ;  but  why  f 

Suddenly  I  asked  him  to  run  ahead  a 
few  steps,  and  then  I  saw— I  saw  a  great 
tear  in  the  seat  of  his  tiny  trousers,  and 
through  this  tear  there  jubilantly  waved 
upon  the  chilly  air  a— snow-white  flag  of 
truce. 

With  burning  cheeks  I  shunted  Jim 
Crow  into  a  side  street,  exclaiming,  "  Oh, 
Jim  Crow !  why  did  n't  your  sister  mend 
your  trousers  before  you  came  out  % " 

"  She  did  mend  'em  wiv  a  pin,  but  de 
pin  stick-ed  me  so,  I  pulled  it  out  a  ways 
back ! "  answered  my  small  friend.  Then, 
seeing  me  still  vexed,  he  added  affably : 


! 


I 


I 


111 


26 


LITTLE  "JIM  CROW" 


"It  don'  hurt  now,  Miss  Cla'h,  and  de 
wind  ain't  col'  a  bit." 

Having  sought  and  found  the  privacy 
of  some  one's  hallway,  I  knelt  down  and 
mended  the  smallest  pair  of  trousers  I  ever 
saw  with  the  very  biggest  safety-pin  I  ever 
happened  to  own.  Never  mind;  the  flag 
of  truce  was  withdrawn  from  the  gaze  of 
a  startled  people,  and  Jim  Crow's  little 
carcass  was  not  "  stick-ed." 

So  once  more  we  put  on  a  brave  fiont 
and  faced  the  avenue.  I  was  not  very 
strong  in  those  days,  and  could  not  walk 
far,  so  I  had  three  several  times  attempted 
to  enter  clothing-stores  we  were  passing- 
big,  well- stocked  places,  too;  but,  "No, 
no,  no ! "  Jim  Crow  cried,  dragging  me 
violently  away;  he  wanted  to  go  to  the 
"  big  glass  stor'." 

"But,"  said  I,  "they  do  not  sell  clothes 
at  a  glass-store." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Cla'h,  they  does ;  more  clo's 
than  eber  you  saw  day  sells.  Oh,  please, 
please !  It  ain't  far  now,  shur'ly,  shur'ly, 
not  far  now,  Miss  Cla'h !  ^' 

So  wearily  I  walked  on,  till  at  Twenty- 


^'H 


LITTLE   ''JIM  CROV/" 


27 


d  de 


ever 
ever 
flag 
e  of 
Pittle 


third  Street,  when  I  was  ready  to  faint 
from  fatigue,  he  suddenly  let  go  my  hand 
that  he  might  hug  himself,  and  then, 
pointing  across  the  street  to  the  Grand 
Opera  House,  he  shouted : 

"Dar  she  is.  Miss  Cla'h;  dar  's  de  big 
glass  stor'.    I  guess  I  git  buttons  dar ! " 

Sure  enough,  the  ground  floor  of  the 
great  building  was  then  occupied  by  a 
clothing  firm,  and  the  marble,  the  gilding, 
and  the  enormous  show-windows  had  won 
from  Jim  Crow  enthusiastic  admiration 
and  the  title  of  the  "  glass  store." 

When  we  went  in  there  were  several 
ladies  at  different  counters  examining 
children's  garments,  but  they  soon  left 
their  own  shopping  to  assist  at  Jim  Crow's. 
For  he  it  was  who  gave  the  orders,  and  his 
lordly  and  pompous  manner,  taken  in  con- 
junction with  his  infinitesimal  size,  was 
really  very  funny. 

One  salesman  had  waited  upon  him  at 
first,  but  presently  two  were  busy  trying 
to  meet  his  demands  without  strangling 
with  laughter.  I  had  fallen  into  the  first 
seat  that  presented  itself,  and  having  told 


1     ! 

■     I 

)     1 


i- 


28 


LITTLE  "JIM  CROW" 


the  clerk  that  I  would  be  responsible  for 
anything  the  child  selected,  I  had,  as  it 
were,  turned  Jim  Crow  loose  in  the  great 
store ;  and  he  was  running  things  to  suit 
Itimself,  while  I  tried  to  get  a  little  rest, 
and  offered  up  a  humble  prayer  that  the 
safety-pin  might  not  belie  its  name. 

But  somehow  things  did  not  go  right. 
Those  two  salesmen  brought  forth  clothing 
enough  for  a  small  regiment  of  boys,  but 
nothing  suited  Jim  Crow.  His  contemp- 
tuous remarks  convulsed  his  hearers,  but 
he  paid  no  heed  to  bystanders.  At  last 
there  seemed  cause  for  hope.  A  little  blue 
suit  with  a  great  quantity  of  white  braid 
and  stitching  seemed  for  a  moment  to 
please  him;  but  when  it  was  opened  out 
he  suddenly  swept  it  aside  with  his  arm, 
and  casting  dignity  to  the  winds,  he  ran 
to  me  anJ  buried  his  disappointed  little 
face  in  my  dress. 

"What  is  it,  Jim  Crow?"  I  asked. 
" Can't  you  find  what  you  want?" 

He  shook  his  head,  and  then,  turning 
his  flashing,  tearful  eyes  upon  the  sales- 


man, he  exclaimed : 


^■4 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


*  29 


"  Ain*t  you  got  no  buttons  in  all  dis  big 
stor'!" 

Then  a  third  salesman  came  up,  and 
murmured  something  to  the  others  about 
"  suit,  a  model ;  not  successful,  too  showy," 
etc.,  and  they  nodded  their  heads  and  went 
smilingly  away,  and  presently  returned 
with  a  small  suit  in  which  the  cloth 
seemed  to  serve  simply  as  a  necessary 
foundation  on  which  to  sew  brass  buttons. 

Jim  Crow  looked,  and  the  next  instant, 
in  spite  of  my  restraining  touch,  he  was 
walking  swiftly  down  the  store  on  his 
hands  to  meet  them. 

He  hugged  himself,  he  hugged  the 
clothes,  and  was  desperately  determined 
to  put  them  on  then  and  there.  At  last  I 
got  them  away  from  him  long  enough  to 
have  them  and  the  accompanying  cap  done 
up.  But  no  sending  of  that  package  home. 
"No,  no,  no!'^  Ho  would  carry  it.  Oh, 
he  must !     He  must ! 

As  we  turned  to  go  one  of  the  salesmen 
attempted  to  open  the  door  for  me;  but 
with  a  frowning  face  Jim  Crow  swept  him 
aside,  and  laying  his  bundle  on  the  floor, 


nl 


30 


LITTLE  "JIM  CROW" 


he  stood  on  tiptoe  and  opened  the  door 
himself,  using  both  little  hands  to  do  it ; 
then,  taking  off  the  crown  of  his  hat,  he 
bowed  me  out,  bowed  to  the  ladies,  took  up 
his  bundle,  and  danced  to  my  side;  and 
so,  amid  laughter  from  the  men,  and  such 
exclamations  from  the  ladies  as  "How 
lovely ! "  "  Oh,  what  a  cunning  little 
fellow ! "  we  made  our  homeward  start. 

I  think  we  left  an  unbroken  wake  of 
smiles  behind  us  as  we  moved.  Once, 
however,  Jim  Crow  found  himself  stirred 
to  wrath.  A  great  big  white  boy  of  about 
twelve  years,  I  should  say,  laughed  jeer- 
ingly  at  him,  and  cried  loudly : 

"Sa-ay,  bundle,  where  yer  goin'  with 
that  kid?" 

Jim  Crow  stopped  stock-still,  and  liter- 
ally glared  at  the  boy  for  a  moment,  while 
I  felt  his  hand  tremble  in  mine.  Then  he 
resumed  his  walk  at  my  side  in  frowning 
silence. 

We  were  nearly  home  before  he  spoke ; 
then,  giving  a  great  sigh,  he  said,  looking 
up  brightly  into  my  face : 

"I  'se  gwine  to  know  aat  trash  boy 


>  ■  : 


LITTLE   '<JIM  CROW" 


31 


when  I  sees  him  ag'in,  I  is."  (Here  came 
another  and  a  bigger  sigh— one  of  evident 
satisfaction.)  "Yaas,  Miss  Cla'h;  I  'se 
gwine  to  lick  dat  boy  clear  into  frazzles." 

"  Why,  Jim  Crow !  What  for ! "  I  cried, 
while  my  mind's  eye  saw  a  picture  of  a 
sparrow  fighting  a  turkey-cock. 

"What  foh?"  echoed  the  mite;  then, 
drawing  himself  up  and  throwing  back 
his  shoulders,  he  continued:  "What  fohl 
Why,  foh  'sultin'  me  when  I  'se  walkin' 
wiv  a  lady." 

I  had,  of  course,  nothing  more  to  offer, 
and,  as  frequently  happened  during  our 
acquaintance,  Jim  Crow  had  the  last  word. 

As  I  went  up  the  front  steps,  he  hurled 
himself  down  the  basement-way,  and  be- 
fore the  front  door  closed  upon  me,  I  heard 
a  Comanche-like  yell,  followed  by  the  oft- 
repeated  word,  "Boots!  boots!  boots!" 
and  knew  that  my  lord  and  master  had 
added  the  final  drop  to  Jim  Crow's  surely 
overflowing  cup  of  bliss. 

Presently  he  stood  shyly  before  me, 
finger  to  lip,  but  with  his  happy,  dancing 
eyes  watching  for  the  effect  his  finery 


a 


32 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


li 


h 


would  have  upon  me.  And  how  pretty 
the  little  scamp  looked  I  The  suit  that 
had  been  too  showy  for  a  white  child  be- 
came him  perfectly.  Yes ;  from  long,  big 
man's  boots,  blue  cloth,  gold  cord,  and 
innumerable  buttons,  to  the  cap,  worn 
hind- side  before  "  because  it  f'^lt  just  like 
ole  hat  that-a-way,"  all  was  charming. 

After  he  had  been  duly  admired,  he 
failed  to  make  his  bow  and  retire,  as  I  had 
expected  him  to  do.  Instead,  he  lingered 
shamefacedly.  Evidently  something  was 
wrong.  I  noticed,  too,  that  he  was  trem- 
bling. "  Too  much  excitement,"  thought  I. 
"  He  will  be  sick  if  I  am  not  careful " ;  so 
I  said  to  him : 

"  Jim  Crow,  you  've  had  no  nap  to-day. 
Had  you  not  better  lie  down  now,  and 
sleep  a  little  !  "  . 

"  Dars  n't,"  was  his  instant  answer. 

"  Dare  not  ? "  I  cried.  "  Why,  what  do 
you  mean  ? " 

He  hesitated  a  moment ;  then,  grasping 
my  skirts  with  both  hands,  as  he  always 
did  when  in  trouble,  he  cried  almost 
wildly: 


LITTLE   ''JIM  CROW" 


33 


"  Dey  wants  to  take  'em  off,  Miss  Cla'h ! 
You  won't  let  'em,  will  you,  Miss  Cla'hl 
You  won't  let  'em  ? " 

"  But,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "  you  must  take 
them  off  sometimes,  you  know." 

His  voice  rose  to  a  positive  shriek: 
"  No ;  oh,  please,  please,  no !  If  I  take  'em 
off  w'ile  dey  's  new,  sister  '11  carry  'em  off 
and  sell  'em,  every  one ! " 

Poor  little  man!  Not  five  yea^i  old, 
and  such  sad  knowledge  gleaned  already 
from  the  great  field  of  life!  I  took  his 
hand  and  led  him  down-staircJ,  where,  in 
his  presence,  I  requested  his  mother  and 
sister  to  leave  him  in  peace,  that  he  might 
enjoy  his  outfit  in  his  own  way. 

His  faith  in  the  honor  of  his  family  was 
not  of  a  robust  nature,  for  at  eight  o'clock 
he  entreated  "  Mee-ri  er  "  to  let  him  go  to 
bed  by  his  "loneself.  No;  he  was  not 
afeard.  No ;  he  did  n't  wan'  no  light ;  he 
could  see  from  the  hall.  No,  no,  no !  he 
did  n't  want  sister  to  put  him  to  bed."  So 
for  the  first  time  he  clambered  alone  up 
those  four  long  flights  of  stairs,  and  put 
his  "  loneself  "  to  bed. 


i 


34 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


I) 


I 


At  11  P.M.,  hearing  laughter  from  the 
upper  rooms,  and  fearing  some  one  might 
be  teasing  the  child,  I  went  up.  The  light 
had  been  turned  on  full,  and  there,  with 
Misery  sleeping  by  his  side,  lay  Jim  Crow. 
One  little  hand  rested  on  Misery's  neck ;  the 
other— ah !  but  it  was  sad  to  see— the  other 
rested  close  to  his  throat,  where  it  tightly 
clutched  the  fastening  of  his  jacket.  Yes, 
his  jacket ;  for  his  sister  at  that  moment 
roughly  stripped  the  bedclothes  down. 
He  was  in  bed  completely  clothed,  literally 
from  top  to  toe ;  for  not  only  had  he  his 
boots  on,  but,  having  absolutely  no  faith 
in  his  family,  he  had  for  further  safety 
tied  his  cap  on  with  a  piece  of  twine. 

'T  was  well  I  was  there  when  the  un- 
dressing took  place,  for  I  really  believe 
the  child  would  have  had  a  fit,  so  great 
was  his  passion  and  his  terror.  I  finally 
calmed  him  down  by  placing  every  article, 
boots  and  all,  under  his  pillow,  he  smil- 
ingly declaring:  "De  humps  dey  cause 
make  me  feel  good,  'ca'se  I  know  den  dey 
is  dar." 

I  had  been  mildly  reproved  by  one  of 


^i  ^ 


4. 


Hnwiirfiiiniri  Jnafll'S^ 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


35 


of 


my  family  for  giving  so  lavishly  to  Jim 
Crow  when  Christmas  was  so  near,  and 
asked  why  I  did  not  wait  till  then?  As 
far  as  giving  a  reason  went,  I  had  no 
reason  to  give;  only  that  "something" 
that  so  often  says  to  me  "  Do ! "  or  "  Do 
not  do ! "  and  which  I  have  so  often  and 
so  recklessly  ignored  to  my  sorrow,  had 
this  time  been  listened  to,  and  to  this  day 
I  am  grateful  to  that  "  something  "  because 
it  kept  murmuring  to  me,  "  If  you  are  go- 
ing to  do  anything  for  Jim  Crow,  perhaps 
you  had  better  do  it  now.    Why  wait  ? " 

I  would  not  wait;  I  would  do  it  now! 
And  I  pa^t  my  own  back  (as  far  as  I  can 
reach)  in  self-approval  that,  in  spite  of 
common  sense  and  excellent  reasons,  I 
obeyed  "  something." 

Gross  neglect  of  duty  on  the  part  of  the 
sullen  buff  sister  had  often  been  overlooked 
for  Jim  Crow's  sake,  and  she  pre  sumed  on 
that  to  add  impertinence  to  her  score ;  but 
one  day  too  much  liquor  and  a  narrowly 
averted  conflagiation  caused  the  dismissal 
of  them  all.  The  head  of  the  house,  hav- 
ing in  alarmed  anger  given  this  order,  left 


•^  • 


86 


LITTLE   "JIM  CliOV/" 


the  city  for  the  night  on  business,  or 
things  might  have  ended  differently. 

So  when  darkness  came  there  issued 
from  the  basement  door  the  red-brown 
brother  carrying  bundles ;  he  was  followed 
by  the  buff  bane  of  the  family,  the  sulky 
sister,  carrying  more  bundles;  and  fol- 
lowing her  was  Maria,  the  mother,  weary, 
angry,  and  full  of  foreboding  for  their 
future;  she  carried  yet  another  bundle. 

But  Jim  Crow  never  moved  a  step.  He 
stood  in  the  center  of  the  room,  clutching 
firmly  the  edge  of  the  large  table.  His 
lips  were  tightly  pressed  together,  and  his 
eyes  were  dull  and  heavy. 

Maria  called  loudly  for  him  to  "come 
along  yere ! " 

He  never  moved.  She  came  back,  and, 
looking  through  the  window,  motioned  tor 
him  to  come.  He  never  moved.  Then 
the  angiy  woman  tossed  her  bundle  to 
one  of  the  others,  and  rushed  back.  As 
she  entered,  the  little  fellow  lifted  fright- 
ened eyes,  and  said  in  deprecating  tones : 

"  Let  's  wait,  Mee-ri  er ;  per'aps  de  boss 
may  cum  right  in  now,  an'  tell  me  I  can't 
go!" 


MMiai'iinwniHn 


mmmmim 


LITTLE   "JIM  CROW" 


37 


I,  or 

y. 

sued 


» 


"  He 's  top  us  all  to  go ! "  snapped  Maria. 

"  Not  me !  "  said  Jim  Crow.  "  I  'se  al- 
ways stood  by  de  boss,  an'  now  ^  "  '^  gwino 
to  stall'  by  me.  I  guess  I  knov,  i  Oh, 
Mee-ri  er,  Mee-ri  er !  don't  —don't !  " 

Two  sharp,  quick,  agonized  cries  broke 
from  his  grayish  lips  as  Maria  forced  his 
little  hands  from  their  hold  upon  the  table ; 
then  she  gathered  him  up  in  her  fierce, 
strong  arms,  and  so  went  out  of  the  base- 
ment door  with  this— their  last  bundle. 

Those  two  piercing,  all-abandoning  cries 
had  reached  even  to  the  floor  above. 

"  What 's  that  ?  "  I  cried,  and  running  to 
the  parlor  window,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
a  shadowy  figure  with  a  child  over  its 
shoulder.  As  they  moved  from  me,  for 
one  chill  moment  the  light  fell  full  upon 
two  straining,  upraised  eyes,  and  two 
piteous,  pale  little  palms  held  vainly  out 
to  those  five  stories  of  stony  silence ;  and 
then  a  great  wave  of  inky  darkness  swept 
over  them,  and  carried  ):rom  me  and  mine, 
far  out  on  the  briny,  bitter  ocean  of  life, 
my  little  Jim  Crow. 


I 


■^ 


SSESSBSa 


Kmsmmmmmmai 


MY  PIRATE 


KHHBiBMI 


■Mk^'^ai 


MY  PIRATE 


IS  name  was  Ezra  Martin,  and 
undoubtedly  he  was  a  pirate. 
When  he  was  away,  and  I 
thought  of  him  suddenly,  little 
cold  creepies  went  all  up  and  down  my 
back,  and  when  he  came  home  and  held 
out  his  hand  to  me,  something  jumped 
quick  right  up  from  my  side  into  my 
throat,  and  choked  me— he  frightened  me 
so  lovely,  ever  so  much  better  than  ghost- 
stories. 

The  strange  thing  was  that  in  that 
house  full  of  grown-ups  no  one  else 
seemed  to  know  that  he  was  a  pirate.  Of 
course,  at  that  time  he  was  an  engineer  on 
the  Lake  Shore  Eoad,  but  he  had  been  a 
sailor,  and  had  sailed  clear  round  the  whole 
world,  and  had  crossed  somebody's  line, 
and  doubled  capes,  and  had  killed  whales 
that  have  corset-bones  and  lamp-oil  in 

41 


42 


MY  PIRATE 


SSl 


them,  and  thrown  harpoons,  and  dragged 
anchors,  and  had  seen  monkeys  without 
hand- organs,  and  parrots  that  knew  no- 
thing about  crackers,  flying  about  wild  in 
real  woods.  And  he  was  swarthy  dark, 
with  black  hair  and  black,  black  little  eyes, 
that  always  had  a  tiny  red  spark  in  them. 
And  he  wore  gold  ear-rings!  Pirates  al- 
ways do  that— always!  And  his  beard? 
Oh,  Captain  Kidd,  in  my  picture-book, 
had  quite  a  common,  honest-looking  beard, 
compared  to  Ezra's  great,  bushy,  wiched- 
looking  one.  And  he  had  a  long  scar 
across  his  forehead,  and  he  never  wore  a 
white  shirt  or  an  overcoat.  He  always 
wore  dark-blue  clothes.  His  trousers 
were  very  tight  at  the  knee  and  very  wide 
at  the  top,  and  he  seemed  to  have  a  lot 
of  trouble  to  keep  them  from  falling  off, 
'cause  he  was  hitching  them  up  nearly 
every  time  he  moved.  He  wore  blue- 
flannel  shirts,  and  in  winter  a  ihing  he 
called  a  "  pilot- jacket."  And  he  carried  a 
big  knife  in  a  leather  sheath,  and  the  knife 
had  spots  on  the  blade— ugh ! 
Of  course  he  was  very  brave,— pirates 


HM 


MY  PIRATE 


43 


igged 
fchout 
7  Ho- 
ld in 
dark, 
eyes, 
hem. 
s  al- 
ard? 
)ook, 
Jard, 
'ked- 
scar 
\>re  a 
ways 
isers 
wide 
I  lot 
off, 
arly 
►lue- 
r  he 
3d  a 
nife 

xtes 


hi-  e  to  be, —but  anyway  I  heard  one  of 
the  boarders  say  "Ezra  was  the  bravest 
man  he  ever  saw,  because  he  dared  to  call 
the  landlady  mother  right  to  her  very  face." 
She  was  n't  his  mother ;  she  was  n't  any- 
body's mother— which  was  a  good  thing 
for  somebody.  She  had  just  married  old 
Mr.  Martin,  and  he  died  very  soon ;  then, 
when  she  was  Ezra's  stepmother,  Ezra 
turned  pirate. 

I  was  afraid  of  her.  I  slept  in  a 
trundle-bed  in  her  room,  and  she  came 
apart  so.  She  put  her  hair  on  the  bed- 
post, and  her  teeth  in  a  glass.  I  always 
covered  up  my  head  then,  for  fear  she 
might  do  something  to  her  eyes— lay 
them  on  the  mantelpiece,  perhaps,  which 
would  have  scared  me  to  death!  Ezra 
told  me  not  to  be  afraid  of  her  when  she 
raved  and  scolded  so.  He  said  she  was  all 
right,  only  I  must  n't  rub  her  the  wrong 
way;  and  when,  on  my  word  of  honor,  I 
assured  him  I  had  never,  never  rubbed  her 
apy  way  at  all,  he  roared  with  laughter, 
and  slapped  his  leg,  and  "shivered  his 
tim!)ers,"  as  pirates  always  do. 


'■  f 


1 


i' 


i<\     I 


44 


MY  PIRATE 


But  besides  being  an  engineer  and 
pirate,  he  was  a  living  picture-gallery. 
Yes,  just  that.  Every  other  Sunday  he 
was  my  panorama.  He  would  turn  slowly 
about,  showing  me  all  the  lovely  pictures 
prickled  on  his  chest  and  shoulders  and 
back  and  arms,  in  blue  and  red  and  green 
inks.  And  he  'd  explain  himself  as  he 
turned.  And  we  were  so  sorry,  both  of  us, 
that  he  could  n't  show  me  a  lovely  pair  of 
turtles  he  had  on  his  legs,  but  his  trousers 
were  too  tight  at  the  knee,  and  that  was 
just  where  they  were. 

The  first  time  he  held  out  his  big  hand 
to  me,  and  I  saw  a  great,  scaly  dragon  on 
it  blowing  red  venom  up  his  sleeve,  I  knew 
he  was  a  pirate;  not  because  of  the  ink, — 
lots  of  people  wear  dots  and  stars  and 
things,— but  because  of  the  dragon.  My 
pirate  was  lovely  up  his  back,  particularly 
where  the  lady  with  the  tiny  waist  and 
flounced  skirt  waved  the  flag  on  his  left 
shoulder.  She  was  a  blue  lady,  and  the 
flag  was  red  and  blue.  And  under  that— 
"to  balance  the  lady,'^  he  said— was  a 
coiled-  up  snake  that  made  me  rather  sick, 


■1 


MY  PIRATE 


45 


which  was  silly,  of  course ;  but  it  had  such 
a  surprising  amount  of  forked  tongue,  and 
really,  you  don't  know  how  snaky  it  looked. 
I  liked  better  the  big  eagle  on  his  right 
shoulder^  which  Ezra  said  was  "a  noble 
old  bird." 

Though  he  was  such  an  interesting  man, 
my  pirate  spoke  very  little  to  the  grown- 
ups. Indeed,  with  one  exception,  he  was 
the  most  silent  person  I  ever  knew.  I 
make  the  exception  in  favor  of  a  young 
friend  who  was  born  dumb.  And  I  was 
very  proud  when  he  would  draw  me  to  his 
knee,  and  teach  me  to  tell  time  by  his  big 
gold  watch,  though,  at  the  same  moment, 
fright  at  being  so  near  the  sheath-knife 
sent  goose-flesh  all  over  my  arms.  When 
he  gave  me  those  lessons,  he  always  sat 
on  the  edge  of  the  wood-box  behind  the 
stove  in  the  sitting-room.  He  never  sat 
on  a  chair,  if  he  could  help  it,  except  at 
table.  He  always  seemed  most  comfortable 
and  most  cheerful  when  he  sat  on  some- 
thing with  a  very  sharp  edge.  When  he 
was  away  I  tried  to  sit  on  the  same 
things,  but  they  brought  tears  to  my  eyes. 


46 


MY  PIRATE 


P     j 


I-    ■( 


m 


nil      [': 


On  the  porch,  he  always  sat  on  the  railing ; 
in  the  sitting-room,  on  the  edgo  of  the 
wood-box ;  in  the  kitchen,  he  was  so  happy 
if  he  could  find  a  full  wash-tub,  for  that 
gave  him  such  a  nice,  sharp  edge  to  sit  on, 
and  then  he  would  always  talk  to  me. 
All  his  best  stories  he  tola  me  from  that 
tub,  and  one  ugly  one  about  the  unnatural 
cat  they  had  on  the  ship  he  used  to  sail 
on.  I  had  said,  "I  did  not  know  sailors 
had  pet  cats  on  board,"  and  he  said :  "  There 
was  but  one  cat,  but  it  was  quite  enough, 
and  I  would  hardly  like  to  call  it  a  pet, 
even  though  it  was  more  popular  with 
the  officers  than  with  the  men."  I  asked 
if  it  was  a  pretty  cat,  and  he  pulled  his 
big  beard  hard  and  said:  "Well,  no;  he 
was  strong  and  remarkably  well  made, 
but  I  would  not  care  to  call  a  cat-o'-nine- 
tails a  pretty  creature." 

Of  course  I  cried  out  that  a  cat  could 
not  have  nine  tails ;  but  he  said  their  cat 
had— that  he  had  seen  them  with  his  own 
eyes;  and  he  added,  after  a  little  pause, 
"  I  came  mighty  near  feeling  them,  too." 

"Would  he  have  scratched  you?"  I 
asked. 


MY  PIRATE 


47 


And  Ezra  said :  "  Scratched  ?  Would  he 
have  scratched  me,  child  !  He  would  have 
cut  the  skin  from  my  body!  But  there, 
don't  look  so  frightened.  There  are  very 
few  of  those  cats  left  now;  the  race  is 
almost  gone." 

I  began  to  pick  up  some  of  his  words, 
from  talking  with  him  so  much,  and  one 
day  he  was  so  tired  he  fell  asleep,  and  by 
and  by  I  called:  "Mr.  Ezra,  wake  up, 
please ;  all  hands  have  been  piped  down  to 
supper."  And  after  that  he  always  called 
me  "  Mate." 

That  made  me  very  happy;  but  one 
thing  worried  me  all  the  time:  I  wanted 
him  to  understand  that  I  knew  he  was  a 
pirate,  and  that  that  dreadful  fact  made 
no  difference  in  my  affection  for  him ;  but 
whenever  I  'd  try  to  give  him  a  hint  I  'd 
get  frightened  and  stop. 

He  taught  me,  too,  how  to  tie  a  hang- 
man's knot,  a  sailor's  knot,  and  to  make 
figures ;  and  at  last,  one  day  when  I  was 
lonely,  and  had  tied  my  apron-strings  into 
a  hangman's  knot,  and  had  had  my  hands 
slapped  for  doing  it,  unhappiness  made 


I 


!i 


48 


MY  PIRATE 


II 


U     'i^ 


I 


me  bold,  and  when  my  pirate  came,  I 
looked  right  into  his  glittery  eye  and 
asked :  "  If  you  please,  how  did  you  use  to 
make  people  *  wvlk  the  plank ' ! " 

Of  course  he  understood  then  that  I 
knew  his  secret.  His  hand  went  up  to  liis 
beard,  he  looked  at  me  a  moment,  then  he 
stooped  down  and  brushed  off  his  trouser's 
leg,  and  his  shoulders  shook,  and  I  saw 
that  he  was  frightened ;  so  I  got  quite  close 
to  him,  and  put  my  hand  in  his,  and  after 
a  minute  he  said  -  "  Well,  Mate,  I  '11  get  a 
bit  of  board,  and  show  you  right  here  in 
this  tub  of  water,  with  that  chopping-bowl 
for  a  ship,  if  you  '11  furnish  a  passenger 
to  drowri." 

My  china  doll  was  too  little  and  light, 
he  said,  so  I  got  a  bottle,  and  filled  it 
with  salt,  and  dressed  it  in  my  handker- 
chief, ready  to  meet  its  awful  doom ;  and 
then— and  then  that  most  piratical  pro- 
.ceeding  known  as  "walking  the  plank" 
was  made  so  thrillingly  plain  to  me  that 
when  the  plank  dipped  anv^  my  passenger 
went  down  into  the  bluing- water  depths, 
I  gave  a  scream  that  brought  out  three  or 


MY  PIRATE 


49 


four  grown-ups  to  see  what  had  happened 
to  me. 

He  was  always  kind  to  helpless  or  dis- 
tressed things,  yet,  being  a  pirate,  he  had 
to  do  some  swearing,  though  it  was  mostly 
sailor  swearing,  which  is  quite  different 
from  just  common  land  swearing,  which, 
of  course,  is  very  wicked  indeed.  He  told 
me  a  good  deal  about  the  first  kind,  one 
day,  while  he  sat  on  the  sharp-edged  barrel 
with  its  head  knocked  in.  He  said  it  was 
not  wickedness,  but  necessity,  made  the 
sailor  swear— that  you  could  n't  keep  the 
finest  ship  ever  built  on  a  straight  course 
without  swearing  at  her.  Then  he  very 
kindly  explained  the  meaning  of  some  of 
their  swear-words.  For  instance,  he  said : 
"  To  call  a  man  in  anger  a  '  son  of  a  sea- 
cook'  meant  generally  a  few  days  in  a 
hospital  for  the  one  that  did  the  call- 
ing.  To  blast  a  man's  eyes— just  a  plain 

*  Blast  your  eyes !  '—meant '  Don't  do  that 
again,  or  I  '11  lick  you';  but  to  blast  his 

*  tarry  top-lights '  meant  he  was  far  enough 
out  of  your  reach  to  keep  you  from  break- 
ing every  bone  in  his  body,  as  you  'd  like 


•  \ 


I      ! 


» 


!■  ! 


H         i 


50 


MY  riRATE 


to  do."  He  also  romarkod  that  if  any 
sailor  was  ever  known  as  "Bilgo-water 
Jack,  or  Bill,"  that  did  n't  mean  that  he 
was  the  d  xndy  or  tlio  "  howlin'  swell "  of  the 
ship.  As  to  the  land  swears,  he  scanM^ly 
ever  used  them ;  and  I  used  to  think  tliat 
if  he  had  suspenders,  and  did  n't  have  to 
hitch  his  trousers  so  much,  perhaps  he 
would  n't  swear  at  all. 

I  think  I  said  he  was  an  engineer  on 
the  Lake  Shore  Eoad  then,  but  I  did  n't 
say  how  much  he  cared  for  his  engine. 
lie  always  called  it  "  Betsy,"  and  he  used 
to  say  she  enjoyed  having  her  toilet 
made  as  much  as  any  lady  would.  He 
was  very  angry,  one  day,  v^hen  one  of  the 
firemen  called  her  "Oi'anky  44,"  and  I 
remember  he  blasted  the  fireman's  eyes, 
and  top-lights,  and  almost  everything  iie 
had  about  him;  for  E/.ra  said  it  was  the 
idiotic  tomfoolery  of  just  such  lubbers 
as  he  was  that  spoiled  Betsy's  tempei*. 
"  Why,  Mate,"  he  said,  "  when  she  's  just 
been  cleaned  and  polished  and  oiled  and 
properly  fed,  slie  '11  fairly  smile  at  you. 
She  's  the  prettiest  thing  that  comes  out 


MY   PIRATE 


01 


of  that  roundhouse,  and  I  suppose  sho 
knows  it—being  no  fool— and  wants  to  be 
treated  right.  Every  man  on  the  road 
knows  that  44  works  all  right  for  me, 
but  with  the  others  she  is  cranky,  and 
with  one  or  two  of  them  she  '11  jerk  and 
plunge  and  rock  and  slide,  and  act  like  the 
very  devil;  and  one  of  these  days  she  '11 
smash  one  of  'em,  you  see  if  she  don't. 
Anyway,  I  wish  those  two  fellows  could 
be  kept  away  from  her.  They  are  more 
fit  for  slave-drivers  than  engine-drivers, 
with  their  jerking  and  pulling  and  yank- 
ing right  at  the  very  start  out.  It  takes 
me  days  to  got  Betsy  quieted  down  and 
running  right  again— taking  hold  of  the 
rail  and  sweeping  along  smooth  as  satin, 
swift  as  lightning.  When  she  's  sane  and 
in  her  right  mind  she  understands  the  re- 
sponsibility we  share  between  us ;  for  you 
see.  Matey,  it  's  not  freight,  but  human 
beings,  we  're  dragging  around  curves  and 
across  trestles,  and  they  are  all  trusting 
us  so ;  and  the  very  worst  of  Betsy  is  that 
when  her  back  's  up  she  don't  care  a— 
well,  she  don't  care  where  in— well,  she 


52 


MY  PIRATE 


:| 


K'4 


i,  j 
I 


.1      ' 


don't  care  how  many  people  she  may  hurt, 
so  long  as  she  smashes  the  one  person 
slio  's  got  it  in  for/' 

Then,  one  day,  Mr.  Ezra  came  in  looking 
awful  lad.  Why,  he  sat  right  down  in  a 
chair,  and  stayed  there  for  a  minute  or  two 
before  he  found  it  out,  so,  of  course,  that 
showed  that  something  bad  had  happened. 
And  Just  as  he  was  seated  on  the  wood- 
box  Mrs.  Martin  came  in,  and  he  looked 
up  and  said :  "  Well,  mother,  Betsy  's  done 
it  this  time.  Her  reputation  's  gone  now, 
I  suppose,  for  good.  She  smashed  big 
Tom  Jones  last  night— both  legs  broken, 
fireman  hurt,  track  torn  up  I  don't  know 
how  many  feet,  and— what  's  the  matter 
with  my  hand  I  Oh,  that  's  from  knock- 
ing over  one  of  the  boys  who  was  already 
calling  Betsy  *  Bloody  44.' " 

He  felt  very  bad  about  the  accident,  and 
for  several  days  he  scarcely  spoke  even 
to  me ;  but  his  next  Sunday  was  at  our  end 
of  the  line,  and  when  I  came  from  Sunday- 
school  he  shouted  out :  "  Ship  ahoy !  Cast 
anchor.  Mate,  and  spin  us  a  yarn  about 
your  cruise  in  church  waters." 


MY  riKATE 

And  I  teas  glad.  After  a  while  I  asked 
him  how  Betsy  was,  and  ho  shook  his  head 
and  said:  "Bad,  Matey,  bad!  She  's 
strained  worse  than  they  think  she  is,  and 
she  's  as  nervous  as  a  runaway  horse  that 
knows  it  's  killed  its  master.  8he  won't 
mind  me  yet,  no  matter  how  gentle  I  am, 
but  jumps  and  snorts  and  takes  her  curves, 
only  holding  the  inner  rails,  v/liilo  her 
outer  wheels  go  whirling  in  the  air."  He 
shook  his  head  again,  and  sat  on  the  edge 
of  the  box  in  frowning  silence.  I  leaned 
against  him,  and  softly  turned  back  and 
forth  the  gold  ring  in  his  ear.  At  last  he 
heaved  a  great  sigh  and  said :  "  Well,  what 
is  to  be  ivill  be.  I  'm  mighty  fond  of 
Betsy,  and  she  may  smash  me,  if  she 
wants  to.  But  she  must  n't  smash  the  men 
and  women  behind  me.  No ;  she  must  n't 
expect  me  to  back  up  her  tantrums  that 
far." 

Then,  to  change  the  subject  to  some- 
thing pleasant,  as  he  said,  he  showed 
me  how  to  tattoo  peoi)le  with  India-ink 
and  a  neeule,  explained  the  nature  and 
use  of   a  belaying-pin,   and   took   some 


11 


54 


MY  PIRATE 


i,rouble  to  convince  me  that  "spankers" 
were  not  things  carried  for  the  correction 
of  disobedient  children.  After  that  he  told 
me  to  "  lay  a  straight  course  to  the  wood- 
house"  and  he  would  show  me  how  to 
harpoon  a  whale,  adding  that  the  infor- 
mation might  be  useful  to  me  sometime. 
Eather  foolishly  I  said :  "  Why,  Mr.  Ezra, 
there  is  no  whale."  And  he  scowled  awfully, 
and  asked :  "  Do  I  look  like  a  lubber  that 
asks  people  to  a  harpooniri'  where  there  's 
nothin'  to  harpoon  ?  "  And  he  hitched  his 
trousers  so  hard,  I  thought  they  'd  go 
clear  up  to  his  shoulders,  and  told  me  to 
"heave  ahead,"  when  I  was  so  scared  I 
could  scarcely  stand. 

But,  lo  and  behold!  the  sitting-room 
carpet,  that  came  home  from  the  cleaners 
too  late  on  Saturday  to  be  put  down,  lay 
in  a  great  big  roll  out  in  the  woodhouse, 
making  a  lovely  whale.  So,  with  pieces  of 
clothes-line  about  our  waists,  tied  to  the 
boarders'  canes  for  harpoons,  we  boldly 
left  our  big  ship,  entered  our  open  boat, 
and  attacked  the  monster.  My  harpoon 
struck  'most  anything  except  the  whale. 


^■^imiiVMw 


m\t  iiiiylt'imi  >'^«a>v«mt-i 


MY  PIRATE 


55 


ers'' 
tion 
told 
ood- 
to 
ifor- 


But  he  said  the  sea  was  heavy,  and  young 
whalers  often  had  that  lack.  But  he  was 
mad  when  I  excitedly  told  him  my  oar  was 
caught  in  the  beast's  gills ;  and  he  walked 
right  off  the  whale's  back,  and  across  the 
blood-stained  waves,  and  boxed  my  ears, 
when  I  said  the  whale  was  "squirting" 
instead  of  "spouting."  Still,  it  was  a 
lovely,  lovely  day— we  never  guessing  it 
was  our  last.  We  lost  two  or  three  of  our 
crew,  and  had  our  boat  stove  in.  Indeed, 
few  whales  make  so  stubboi'n  a  fight  for 
life  as  this  one  did ;  and  he  had  just  stopped 
churning  the  reddened  waves  when  our 
dinner-bell  rang,  and,  hot  and  happy,  I 
rowed  back  to  our  big  ship.  And  as  we 
went  to  dinner  Mr.  Ezra  promised  that 
on  his  next  trip  home  he  would  show  me 
how  pirates  were  said  to  "  run  down  "  and 
"board"  a  rich  merchantman.  "Oh,"  I 
cried,  "that  would  be  too  good  to  come 
true!" 

But,  alas !  my  words  were  to  come  true. 
I  had  on  my  clean  apron,  and  I  was  watch- 
ing for  my  pirate's  return  on  his  next  trip 
home,  when  a  strange  man  came  in,  all 


56 


MY  PIRATE 


:(i     I 

li 


ii       t 


u 


torn  and  crumpled  and  dirty,  with  cuts  on 
his  pale  face,  and  his  arm  in  a  sling.  And 
he  asked  for  Mrs.  Martin,  and  he  said: 
"I  'm  Ezra's  fireman,  mum,  and— and— " 
And  then  he  stopped,  and  his  ejes  went 
all  about  the  walls,  but  would  n't  look  at 
her  at  all.  And  she  sat  down  so  hard  the 
windows  rattled,  and  she  said:  "You  're 
Ezra's  fireman,  you  say?  Then  what  are 
you  here  for!  What  's  happened? 
What  's  the  matter!  Are  you  clean 
dumb?" 

I  touched  the  man,  and  in  a  small  voice 
gasped:  "Please,  is  it  Betsy?  Has  she 
hurt  Mr.  Ezra  ? " 

And  he  said:  "Yes,  curse  her!" 

And  Mrs.  Martin  said  then :  "  He 's  dead, 
I  suppose  ? " 

But  the  crumpled,  dirty  man  said: 
"No,  he  is  n't  dead,  but  ho  wishes  he 
was.  You  see,  it  was  this  way:  He 
would  n't  leave  the  engine.  I  saw  what 
was  coming;  so  did  he.  I  called,  *  Jump ! 
jump  for  your  life,  Ez!'  He  had  one 
hand  on  the  lever ;  with  the  other  he  gave 
a  hitch  to  his  breeches,  and  he  shouted : 


Mm 


.  ■-•»-••  ■r«.mMi«m'l-\filtf,V 


MY  PIRATE 


57 


*Jamp  and  be  d— d!  I  stand  between 
Betsy  and  the  people  behind ! ' 

'*  I  jumped  then,  and  am  here  all  right. 
Ezra  stood  at  his  post  and  went  down 
in  the  crash.  The  people  he  saved  are  all 
calling  him  hero^  but  he  's  as  blind  as  a 
stone.  It  was  the  steam,  you  know,  that 
did  it.  For  God's  sake,  take  that  child  to 
her  mother,  if  she  's  got  one ! " 

Oh,  it  was  dreadful !  Mr.  Ezra  lying  so 
still  in  the  bed,  and  the  room  so  dark, 
and  the  mediciny  smell  always  there. 
And  then,  when  the  light  was  let  in, 
and  the  smell  of  drugs  went  away,  I 
used  to  creep  in  as  stealthily  as  a  lit- 
tle cat,  and  watch  him,  and  cry  and  cry; 
and  sometimes,  thinking  he  was  all  alone, 
he  would  roll  his  head  and  say:  "God! 
God!'' 

Then,  one  day,  he  heard  me  sniff,  I  sup- 
pose, for  he  said,  quick  and  sharp :  "  Who 
is  it?  Who  's  there,  I  say?"  And  I  said: 
"Only  Matey,  sir."  And  he  held  out  his 
hand  to  me,  and  I  came  and  sat  on  the 
bed,  and  we  talked  and  talked;  and  after 
that  he  called  for  me  every  day,  and  I  am 


i 

'.  f 
^'1 


■     \  :, 


68 


MY  PIRATE 


dreadfully  afraid  that  I  put  on  airs  about 
it,  though  I  hope  not. 

Then  a  day  came  when  I  had  to  tell  my 
dear  pirate  good-by.  He  was  well  again, 
and  had  already  picked  up  many  of  the 
pathetic  tricks  of  the  blind.  He  was  going 
to  the  far,/ar  West,  where,  with  a  iiiend, 
he  had  a  small  interest  in  a  mine,  and  the 
friend  thought  that,  even  as  he  was,  Ezra's 
knowledge  of  engines  would  be  of  use. 

The  carriage  stood  at  the  door.  Every 
one  had  said  good-by.  I  followed  him 
through  the  hall  to  the  porch.  He  turned 
in  the  doorway  and  shook  hands  a  second 
time  with  Mrs.  Martin,  whose  false  front 
was  all  crooked  and  whose  face  was  work- 
ing. I  had  a  great  weight  on  my  chest 
and  a  pain  in  my  throat.  I  did  not  know 
what  they  meant  then,  but  I  though":  he 
was  forgetting  me. 

Suddenly  he  stopped  and  held  out  his 
hands  vaguely  before  him,  and  said  softly : 
"Matey— I  thought  I  heard  Matey's  pat- 
ter behind  me  in  the  hall.  Are  you  here. 
Mate?" 

I  was  at  his  knee  in  a  moment,  and  then 


MY  PIFATE 


59 


he  stooped,  and  my  arms  were  around  his 
neck  in  a  strangling  hug.  My  face  was 
buried  in  his  great,  black  beard.  My  pi- 
rate, whom  I  loved,  and  of  whom  I  had  but 
one  doubt.  Oh,  if  that  doubt  could  be 
driven  away !  He  tried  to  rise,  but  I  held 
him  fast.  This  was  my  last  chance.  I 
raised  my  face,  I  gulped,  I  gasped  out  my 
question.  "  Dear  Mr.  Ezra,"  I  said,  "  when 
—you— were— a~pirat(j— did— did  "—I  al- 
most choked  over  it—"  did  you  ever  make 
any  lady  passengers  walk  the  plank?" 

He  hid  his  face  in  my  neck  a  moment. 
Then,  in  a  shaking  voice,  he  said :  "  Mate, 
I  give  you  my  solemn  affadavy  that  I 
never,  in  my  goriest  hour,  made  a  gentle 
female  thing  walk  the  plank,  or  held  the 
poisoned  bowl  to  her  lips,  nor  the  dagger 
to  her  throat ;  and  that 's  the  truth."  And 
then  he  straightened  up  and  burst  into  a 
laugh  that  fairly  shook  him  from  head  to 
foot.  - 

The  man  waiting  at  the  carriage  door 
said :  "  Come,  Ez,  you  '11  be  late." 

He  felt  his  way  down  the  two  steps  to 
the  sidewalk.    He  stopped ;  the  laugh  was 


^  I 


.  t    -1 


60 


MY  PIRATE 


I 


I 

! 


i 


gone.  He  turned  and  silently  held  out  his 
arms.  I  sprang  and  caught  him  about 
the  neck.  He  held  me  with  one  ann ;  he 
passed  his  hand  over  my  hair,  my  face. 
He  whispered:  "Such  an  lionest  little 
craft ! " 

He  kissed  me  twice,  then  put  up  his 
hands,  loosened  mine,  and  gently  set  me 
down,  and  looking  in  his  face,  I  saw  from 
his  poor,  scarred,  closed  lids  two  tears  slip 
down  and  hide  themselves  in  his  great 
beard.  I  just  heard  his  "Good-by,  little 
Mate!''  and  then  he  was  at  the  wrong 
place  by  the  carriage,  and  the  man  caught 
his  arm  and  pulled  him  to  the  door,  and 
Mr.  Ezra  hitched  his  trousers  and  stepped 
in  and  was  gone. 

That  he  never  killed  any  woman  on  the 
sea  shows  he  was  a  kind  man— though,  for 
all  that,  of  course  you  see  for  yourself 
that  he  had  been  a  pirate. 


*  . 


I 


M 


\[ 


<c  ri 


SHINS" 


|HEN  I  hear  the  word  "philan- 
thropist" there  springs  up  in 
my  mind  the  picture  of  a  large, 
clean,  white-  or  silvery-haired 
man,  with  a  strong  gleam  of  gold  about 
him.  Perhaps  it  's  spectacles,  p  Ti  -^ps 
it 's  chain,  perhaps  it 's  only  teeth  -a  rt 
of  gold-filled  smile;  but  therr  's  gold 
about  him  somewhere.  Now,  it  nevei  oc- 
curred to  me  till  the  other  day  tl  lit  a  phi- 
lanthropist was  not  born  in  that  state  of 
gold-gleaming  plumpness  and  grayness, 
already  ripe,  so  to  speak,  but  that  back  of 
him  there  must  have  been  a  dark-haired, 
lean  man  of  energy,  and  still  farther  back 
a  boy.  A  boy?  Good  heavens!  a  boy 
and  a  philanthropist?  They  are  farther 
apart  than  the  poles.  And  yet,  and  yet,  the 
other  day  I  saw  an  embryo  philanthropist ; 
I  'm  sure  I  did;  and  he  was—but  let  me 

63 


■ — j~tm 


64 


"SHINS" 


it 


I    <! 


I, 


il 


tell  you  all  about  it.  I  know  him,  you  see. 
His  name  is  Brown— Jimmy  Brown;  but 
he  is  called  "  Shins."  His  mother  lives  in 
what  she,  poor  soul,  calls  a  "tenement- 
flat  " ;  but  Shins  lives  in  the  street.  He  is 
small,  he  is  dirty,  and  he  has  just  reached 
that  age  where  he  is  denounced  by  every 
living  creature,  save  his  confederates  and 
the  generally  blamed  mother  who  bore 
him.  With  a  strong  prejudice  against 
clothing  of  any  kind,  he  has  been  coerced 
into  wearing  portions  of  two  small  gar- 
ments—shirt and  trousers.  But  doing  it 
against  his  will  makes  him  ever  ready  to 
cast  them  from  him  upon  the  slightest 
excuse.  Therefore  he  takes  all  his  baths 
in  public  places,  selecting  usually  some 
stream  commanded  by  the  windows  of 
crowded  passenger-cars— though  the  basin 
of  a  park  fountain  has  received  his  patron- 
age, when  he  was  too  hurried  to  go  farther 
afield,  in  search  of  greater  publicity.  ' 

In  the  invention  and  practice  of  nerve- 
destroying  noises.  Shins  "  beats  de  band." 
Could  Dante  have  heard  the  sounds  pro- 
duced by  Shins  through  one  long  sum- 


\' 


^,  mtmm    -^^^^-x*--* 


"SHINS" 


Go 


you  see. 
^n;  but 
lives  in 
ement- 

He  is 
eaehed 

every 
es  and 

bore 
gainst 
^erced 

gar- 
ing  it 
dy  to 
rhtest 
baths 
some 
^s  of 

)asin 
;ron- 
ther 

rve- 
ad.» 
)ro- 
im- 


mor's  day,  the  groat  Italian's  commodious, 
varied,  and  ingenious  hell  would  have  been 
the  richer  by  one  more  torture,  I  am  sui'o. 
The  sole  tie  that  binds  Shins  to  the 
human  race  is  his  mother.  Without  that 
tie  he  would  be  an  imp,  pure  and  simple 
—a  creature  of  torment ;  in  short,  a  small 
devil.  But  being  so  little,  hunger  and 
stress  of  weather  still  send  him  home  oc- 
casionally, and  he  therefore  remembers 
some  of  her  peculiarities:  how  she  had 
his  father  larrup  him,  once,  for  cruelty  to 
a  caged  rat ;  how  she  looked  at  him  with 
her  tired  gray  eyes,  shining  through  big 
tears,  the  day  he  pulled  off  the  fly's  wings. 
And  he  wonders  why  the  tear-filled  eyes 
hurt  worse  than  the  licking  did.  And  he 
can  remember,  too,  how  she  nursed  and  fed 
a  poor  homeless  cat  whom  one  of  the 
neighbors  had  heartlessly  injured— this 
mother,  who  had  tried  hard  to  make  him 
truthful.  But  Shins  finds  truth-telling 
incompatible  with  a  high  position  in  "de 
gang,"  so,  to  compromise  matters,  he  lies 
when  occasion  demands,  but  promptly 
licks  any  other  boy  who   says  he  lies. 


\ 

( 

.')j 


60 


♦♦sniNS" 


Now,  tho  other  day,  while  the  hot  wave 
was  with  us,  for  my  sins  I  had  to  visit 
tho  city— so  I  thought,  going  down.  Coui- 
ing  home  I  changed  my  mind,  as  that  visit 
had  brought  to  me  my  discovery.  It  was 
the  second  dreadful  day,  and  Mrs.  Brown, 
noticing  the  signs  of  sleeplessness  and 
suffering  in  the  face  of  her  small  savage, 
Jamesie,  had  withdrawn  from  her  hard- 
earned  capital  the  sum  of  three  pennies, 
which  she  had  placed  in  his  hot  little  fist, 
telling  him  he  might  treat  himself.  And 
Shins's  dull  eyes  had  brightened  quickly. 
He  flung  his  arms  about  his  mother's  knees 
in  a  rough  embrace,  and  dashed,  whoop- 
ing, down  the  stairs,  and  off  on  a  wild 
chase  after  a  "hoky-poky"  man— the 
puissant  lord  of  that  push-cart  in  which  a 
battered  and  dingy  ice-cream  can  is  high 
enthroned. 

In  his  search  he  was  attended  by  a 
number  of  "de  gang,"  who  followed  him 
as  fast  as  various  stages  of  stone-bruises 
would  permit.  Not  that  they  had  pennies 
to  spend  for  themselves,  but  because  they 
liked  to  see  "de  deal,"  and  there  was  al- 


"SHINS" 


07 


wave 
)  visit 
Com- 
t  visit 
t  was 
rown, 
and 
vage, 
hard- 
inies, 
3  fist, 
And 
ckly. 
^nees 
oop- 
wild 
-the 
ich  a 
high 

)y  a 
him 
lises 
nies 
:hey 
J  al- 


ways a  small  chance  of  "  swipin'  ^  a  bit  of 
ice  from  "de  cart— see!"  They  were  on 
the  corner  of  Fourth  Avenue  and  a  down- 
town cross-street  when  word  came  from  a 
flying  messenger  that  the  "  hoker-poker " 
was  coming,  so  they  rested  there,  wait- 
ing; and  as  Shins  wiped  liis  streaming 
face  on  his  sleeve,  he  noticed  a  boy  near 
him  with  an  enormous  slice  of  bread  in 
his  hand.  It  was  not  only  thickly  but- 
tered, but  it  was  fairly  covered  with  a 
mighty  cut  of  meat.  The  bare  sight  of  it, 
this  hot  day,  sickened  him.  lie  turned 
his  head  away  and  looked  straight  into  the 
face  of  a  famishing  dog,  who  stood— a  liv-r 
ing  longing— before  the  boy  with  the  mon-r 
ster  sandwich.  Shins,  trying  not  to  see, 
turned  his  glance  down  the  avenue.  No 
use ;  he  saw  the  ridgy  rib-bones,  the  mangy 
marks  on  the  yellowish-brown  coat ;  saw 
how  the  sad,  sagging  tail  gave  a  piteous 
little  deprecating  quiver  now  and  then, 
that  seemed  to  say:  "Yes— y-es- 1 
th-i-n-k  a  crumb  is  go-ing  to  co-me  my 
way  tils  time — a  crumb  for  me,'^^ 
Shins  turned  quickly  to  see ;  but  no,  the 


.TF  :■ 


■I  I 


'i      J  ! 


I 


68 


"SHINS" 


boy  gave  no  crumb,  though  the  strained, 
bright  eyes  upon  him  were  anguished,  and 
the  creature  swallowed  convulsively  at 
each  bite  the  boy  slowly  took. 

At  that  moment  a  wild  shout  pro- 
claimed the  appearance  of  the  hoky- 
poky  man.  Great  excitement  followed. 
The  boys  swarmed  about  the  cart,.  Shins 
secured  his  coveted  morsel  of  icy  delight, 
and  hoping  a  great  big  hope  that  the  dog 
might  be  gone,  turned  round  to  see  him 
limping  after  them,  his  nose  high  in  air, 
following  the  maddening  scent  of  the 
meat ;  and,  to  cap  the  climax,  just  at  that 
moment  the  creature  staggered  and  nearly 
fell  on  the  blistering  stones.  Shins  shut 
his  teeth  hard  one  instant ;  then,  turning 
back  his  lips,  contemptuously  he  shouted 
out  his  really  splendid  lie : 

"Y-ah!"  he  yelled,  "y-ah!  dis  cold 
sweet  stuff  's  only  fit  for  gals !  When  I 
eat,  I  wants  to  eat  meat,  de  stuff  w'at 
gives  a  feller  muscle.  Say,  you  Soapy! 
do  yer  want  to  make  a  deal  I  I'll  swap 
dis  sweet  mess  wid  yer— if  you  '11  swap 
even— fer  ver  hank  of  bread  an'  meat." 


'#*'^»^'''*^'i 


"SHINS" 


69 


Did  Soapy  want  to  swap?  Did  not 
Soapy  (so  called  because  he  was  the  dusti- 
est boy  in  the  ward)  know  a  good  thing 
when  he  saw  it  ?  A  moment  more  and  the 
cream  had  changed  hands.  Shins  had  the 
bread  and  moat,  and  with  wild  whoops  of 
pretended  satisfaction,  he  dashed  down 
the  side-street,  the  mangy,  wavering,  pant- 
ing dog,  with  hope  almost  gone  from  his 
eyes,  forced  by  gnawing  hunger  still  to 
follow. 

The  "  gang "  remained  by  the  cart,  and 
at  the  first  area- way  Shins  turned  in,  and, 
with  a  look  of  loathing,  cast  the  food  upon 
the  stones,  where  the  following  hunger 
found  and  with  faint  growling  fell  upon 
and  devoured  it. 

But  Shins— poor  little  heat- worn  Shins ! 
Every  separate  nerve  in  his  city-sick  little 
body  cried  passionately  for  that  moment 
of  refreshment,— that  icy,  icy,  icy  touch 
upon  his  dry,  parched  lips,— and  it  was 
gone.  Soapy  was  eating  it.  He  could 
not  help  it.  His  arm  was  against  the  area 
gate,  his  dirty,  weary  little  face  was  buried 
in  it,  and  he  cried  as  if  his  impulsive  little 


70 


*' SHINS" 


heart  would  break— cried  until  a  small 
noise  attracted  his  attention.  He  looked 
around,  and  through  his  tears  saw  the 
dog  had  already  finished  his  real  work, 
and  was  now  attending  to  a  few  details, 
such  as  picking  up  the  widely  scattered 
crumbs  and  carefully  licking  the  butter  olf 
his  upper  lip. 

The  lightning  quickness  of  the  whole 
performance  so  delighted  Shins  that  he 
cried  out :  "  Well,  you  are  a  high  roller ! " 
And  as  the  dog  wagged  a  pleased  assent  to 
the  assertion.  Shins  told  him  to  "  com'  on  " 
and  he  'd  get  him  a  drink. 

I  saw  them  at  a  leaky  hydrant.  Shins 
had  caught  some  water  in  his  torn  old  hat, 
and  the  "  high  roller  "  drank  and  drank ; 
and  as  Shins  was  telling  him  how  easy  it 
was  for  a  smart  dog  to  learn  to  walk  on  his 
hind  legs,  I  looked  long  and  carefully  into 
his  tear-brightened  eyes,  shining  above  his 
dirty,  streaky  cheeks,— -looked  long  and 
carefully,  as  one  should  look  who  finds 
something  great  in  embryo,— and  there 
surely  is  a  future  philanthropist  in  this 
little  street  gamin,  Shins. 


(C 


MY  MR.  EDWARD" 


( 


I 


i"l 


m 


111: 

mm 

i 

W^ 

'm^WmMi 

IP 

. 

i 

mm 

i 

-^ 


"MY  MR.  EDWARD'' 


[DON^T  know  why  my  thoughts 
should  travel  so  far  backward 
to-day— why  I  am  forced  to 
dwell  upon  these  early  memo- 
ries, so  broken,  yet  so  vivid.  Is  it  be- 
cause the  rain  is  falling?  Not  the  warm, 
sweet  rain  of  April ;  not  the  fierce,  black 
rain  of  November :  but  the  soft,  sad,  tear- 
like rain  of  early  autumn,  through  which 
the  loosened  yellow  leaves  fall  in  heavy 
silence  to  the  sodden  earth.  Perhaps. 
Or  perhaps  I  have  gazed  too  hng,  too 
steadily,  upon  the  bit  of  iron  foolishness 
standing  on  the  table  here  before  me, 
knowing  its  great  cost,— poor  little  >y  flat- 
iron,  made  to  press  a  dolly's  wai  tobe, — 
and  remembering,  as  I  must  rem*  ruber  all 
my  life,  the  day  the  awful  price  as  paid, 
and  it  became  my  property.  I  ^i  haps ! 
Curious  things  early  childish  memories 

73 


74 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


are,  too.    There  will  be  some  event  re- 


'  I 


membered  with  astonishing  clearness,  even 
words  of  unknown  meaning  being  re- 
called ;  then  there  comes  a  hiatus ;  then  an- 
other memory,  unconnected,  all  accepted, 
as  we  accept  our  dreams,  calmly,  as  a 
matter  of  course— as  when  in  sleep,  with- 
out surprise,  one  gathers  superb  flowers, 
having  waded  through  snow  to  reach 
them,  or  receives  with  serene  dignity  the 
highest  personages  in  the  land  in  a  cos- 
tume of  euch  shocking  limitations  that 
were  one  awake  one  would  shriek  even  to 
her  maid  to  keep  out  of  the  room. 

So  in  this,  my  earliest  of  memories,  I 
was  there.  I  know  no  "  hows  "  or  "  whys." 
I  was  just  there,  and  I  found  it  good. 

The  house  was  big  and  white,  the  lake 
was  big  and  blue.  The  rain  never  fell, 
!  Tie  wind  never  blew,  and  the  sun  always 
shone— "  'ceptin'  when  I  was  asleep." 
Naturally,  the  sun  would  not  shine  while 
I  slept. 

I  had  at  this  time  three  different  ways 
to  get  down-stairs.  One  was  to  stand  at  the 
top  and  call— roar,  if  need  were— till  help 


''MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


75 


I 


came.  The  second  way  was  to  turn  my 
back  to  the  staircase,  lie  down  flat-face, 
and  wriggle  down,  the  greater  part  of  the 
labor  coming  upon  the  elbows  and  stomach. 
The  third  was  the  quickest,  though  it 
never  met  with  the  full  approval  of  my 
elders.  It  was,  too,  the  simplest.  I  had 
only  to  look  for  a  moment,  then  fall  down ; 
and  being  a  very  roly-poly  young  person, 
damages  were  always  slight^  sometimes 
nil, 

I  do  not  know  how  old  I  was,  but  judg- 
ing from  my  peculiar  way  of  treating 
staircases,  and  from  the  fact  that  the  letter 
r  was  entirely  eliminated  fr-om  my  con- 
versation, I  am  led  to  beiiove  that  my 
years  were  exceeding  few. 

When  I  think  of  this  time  I  always 
loiter;  because  in  this  little  incident  lies 
my  whole  childhood— the  only  time  in  all 
my  life  in  which  I  knew  not  care;  for 
when  I  had  passed  my  fifth  mile-stone  of 
life  I  was  an  anxious  little  woman,  and 
Pain  and  Poverty  walked  on  either  side  of 
me  and  held  my  hands  firmly  claspec*  in 
theirs.    But  let  that  pass.    I  say  that  I 


> 

i 

i   1 

1 

i 

i 

-it' 

f 

;     ' 

' 

1!^ 

1 

I 

I 

f    ; 

H- 

<i 

il 


^v- 


^# 


76 


"MY  MR.  EDWARD" 


was  then  very  young  and,  thank  God,  very 
happy. 

My  family  (I  called  them  all  mine)  was 
composed  of  white-haired  Judge  Walden 
and  his  wife  and  their  son  and  daughter, 
whom  I  always  referred  to  as  "my  Mr. 
Judge,"  and  "  my  Mrs.  Judge,"  "  my  Miss 
Kate  "  and  "  my  Mr.  Edward." 

I  loved  them  all ;  but  as  for  my  Mr.  Ed- 
ward, my  cheeks  grow  warm  even  now 
when  I  recall  the  intensity  of  the  love  I 
bore  him.  So  great  it  was,  sometimes  it 
grew  to  pain.  Once,  when  he  asked  me 
how  much  I  loved  him,  after  a  vain  at- 
tempt or  two  to  find  some  measure  for  my 
love,  I  gave  a  little  moan,  and  laying  his 
hand  across  my  throat,  1  sobbed :  "  I  love 
you  so  big,  it  hurts  me  wite  here."  And 
then  i.e  caught  me  up  in  his  arms,  and 
passed  his  lips  to  and  fro,  to  and  fro, 
across  my  aching  throat,  till  all  the  pain 
was  gone,  and  called  me  "Mite,"  and 
"little  Sweetheart,"  and  kissed  my  tear- 
wet  eyes,  and  mounted  me  in  state  at  last 
upon  his  shoulder ;  and  when  1  threw  off 
his  hat,  he  laughed,  and  carried  me  about 


^ 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


77 


and  showed  me  a  bird's  nest  and  many 
other  fair  and  marvelous  sights  beneat)^ 
the  blue  sky,  while  I  passed  most  of  my 
time  in  showering  kisses  on  the  top  of  his 
head,  and  loving  him.  How  I  loved  him  I 
and  oh,  dear  heaven,  if  only  he  had  not 
loved  me,  perhaps  it  had  not  all  happened 
as  it  did ! 

My  family  noticing  me  so  much,  I  saw 
little  of  my  mother,  who  was  sewing  for 
my  Mrs.  Judge,  and  sat  all  day  long  at 
work  in  a  little  room  just  olf  the  sitting- 
or  morning-ixxvm,  and  opposite  the  stair- 
case— which  pix)ved  very  convenient  on 
those  occasions  when  I  decided  upon  fall- 
ing down  the  stairs.  'T  was  here  I  came  to 
bo  dvessed,  since  my  mother  rose  so  very 
eai^  that  she  had  to  leave  me  in  bed  to 
finish  my  sleep. 

But  before  the  ceremony  of  dressing 
took  place,  I  had  a  duty  to  perform,  in 
providmg  breakfast  for  seven  small 
variegated  kittens— half -orphaned,  and 
wholly  hungry.  They  awaited  my  morn- 
ing appearance  with  feverish  anxiety,  and 
on  sight  of  me  they  fell  at  once  into  line, 


♦ 


i 


78 


''MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


I  A 


Indian  file,  and  followed  where  I  led— 
straight  to  the  bowl  of  morning's  milk 
that  was  waiting  for  us.  Then,  with  night- 
gown raised  that  I  might  not  stumble,  with 
short  arms  clasped  close  around  the  bowl, 
and  eyes  fixed  unwinkingly  upon  the 
dangerously  swaying  milk  inside,  I,  with 
my  streaming  tail  of  cats  behmd,  made 
solemn  progress  across  the  big  kitchen, 
through  the  summer  kitchen,  out  to  the 
back  porch,— a  mighty  journey,— where, 
with  bowl  placed  on  the  floor,  and  night- 
gown lowered,  I  rested  from  my  labors,  and 
watched  with  absolute  delight  the  seven 
little  rose-pink  tongues  dart  in  and  out 
of  the  sweet  white  milk,  the  fourteen  fat 
little  sides  gradually  filling  out  and  be- 
coming round.  After  this  I  trotted  back 
to  be  myself  groomed  and  dressed  for  the 
happy  day  of  little  lessons  from  my  dear 
Miss  Kate,  pats  and  nods  from  my  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Judge,  and  loving  indulgence 
beyond  belief  from  my  adored  Mr.  Ed- 
ward; while  each  day  and  every  da^^- 
they  individually  and  collectively  charged 
me  not  to  touch  green  plums,  green  apples, 


Pi|i 


•'MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


70 


^reen 


this  and  that,  or  I  shoul'^  surely 
suffer  from  that  awful  thing  I  called 
"cololoi"  in  my  vain  attempt  to  repeat 
correctly  their  word  "cholera." 

Particularly  was  I  charged  to  leave  the 
green  plums  alone,  because,  by  some 
chance,  one  plum-tree  grew  outside  the 
orchard  walls,  and  directly  in  my  way. 
And  I  daily  made  solemn  promises,  with 
many  noddings  of  the  head,  and  a  finger 
in  my  mouth,  and  being  corrected  regu- 
larly for  that,  repeated  my  solemn  prom- 
ises, and  all  the  noddings,  without  the 
comforting  finger  in  my  mouth,  but  with 
hands  clasped  oehind  my  back— which 
effort  usually  capsized  me ;  while  the  grav- 
ity with  which  I  accepted  these  reversals, 
and  calmly  waited  for  some  one  to  stand 
me  up  again,  filled  my  family  with  mu'th. 
My  Mr.  Judge  would  shake  with  laugh- 
ter, and  say:  "Oh,  come  here,  you  little 
graven  image,  and  kiss  me !  " 

But  it  was  in  my  Mr.  Edward's  neck  I 
hid  the  troubled  solemnity  of  my  face,  and 
he  would  stroke  my  hair,  and  open  my 
silent  little  mouth,  and  look  within  to  see 


,.^.. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


k2|2j8     |2.5 
12.0 


Ui 


14.0 


IL25  il.4 


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1.6 


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m 


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^     ^>» 


^ 


%' 


y 


/A 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


\ 


^ 


^<i) 


V 


4? 


"V 


<> 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


^ 


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% 


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»  / 


F*:  • 


80 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


if  the  cats  had  robbed  me,  and  know  no 
rest  until  my  baby  tongue  was  set  going 
again.  And  so  I  went  trotting  and  stum- 
bling through  that  sweet  time  of  sunshine 
and  love  into  the  day  beginning  with  the 
laughable,  childish  disaster  of  the  summer 
morning,  which  led  to  the  awful  disaster 
of  the  black  night. 

We  were  poor,  my  mother  and  I,  and  I 
owned  just  two  toys.  One  was  a  doll,  quite 
small,  but  of  such  hideous  aspect  the  very 
cats  turned  tail  and  fled  from  her.  I  wanted 
my  Mr.  Edward  to  kiss  her  once.  But  he 
asked  me  if  I  did  n't  think  it  would  be 
much  nicer  if  he  took  off  his  hat  to  her? 
He  said  he  did  n't  know  her  very  well,  and 
besides,  he  noticed  one  of  her  eyes  fell  in- 
side of  her  somewhere  when  I  kissed  her, 
and  perhaps  they  might  both  fall  into  her 
if  he  were  to  kiss  her.  So  I  consented  to 
his  proposal,  and  he  always  took  off  his 
hat  when  he  met  us  in  the  garden,  where 
I  played  "  cololol "  with  her  by  tying  her 
hands  across  her  stomach  to  express  the 
pain  she  suffered,  and  put  green  plums  in 
her  lap  to  show  what  a  bad  doll  she  was. 


f'^- 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


81 


: 


' 


; 


I  also  owned— oil,  that  I  had  not !— a  tiny- 
pewter  iron.  I  think  it  cost  two  cents, 
and  the  amount  of  laundry-work  I  did 
was  astonishing.  So  long  as  I  heated  my 
iron  in  the  sun  on  the  window-sill,  all 
went  well ;  but,  alas !  the  spirit  of  mimicry 
that  lives  in  every  child  dwelt  in  me.  I 
saw  the  woman  in  the  kitchen  put  her 
irons  on  the  hot  stove ;  I  saw  her  wet  her 
finger  and  touch  them,  to  see  if  they  were 
hot,  rub  them  on  a  cloth  to  make  them 
clean :  therefore  must  I  do  all  these  things. 

By  standing  on  tiptoe  I  could  put  my 
little  iron  on  top  of  the  stove;  so  I  did 
it,  and  turned  to  make  my  doll-clothes 
ready  for  ironing.  When  all  was  pre- 
pared I  returned  to  the  stove ;  but  there  was 
no  iron  there.  In  vain  I  looked,  craning 
my  neck  anxiously.  The  little  shining 
flat-iron  was  not  there.  Then  my  anger 
began  to  rise,  and  turning  to  the  woman 
working  at  a  table,  I  demanded  of  her 
my  "  iwon."  She  said  she  did  not  have  it. 
I  said  she  did.  Just  then  she  went  over 
to  the  stove  to  change  her  cool  iron  for  a 
hot  one,  and  in  a  moment  she  gave  a  great 

6 


I 


II 


1.;> 


- :  i 


82 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


roar  of  laughter,  and,  pointing  to  a  silvery, 
quivering  little  ball  or  great  bead  lying  on 
the  stove-top,  declared :  "  That  ^s  your  flat- 
iron,  miss,  all  melted  into  that !  "  and  fairly 
howled  with  great-mouthed  enjoyment. 

It  was  too  much  for  a  very  small  per- 
son with  a  very  fierce  temper,  who  was, 
moreover,  keenly  sensitive  to  ridicule. 
Eage  entered  into  and  possessed  me  to 
such  an  extent  the  woman  became  fright- 
ened, and,  running  to  call  my  mother,  met 
Mr.  Edward  and  brought  him  instead.  He 
gave  but  one  look  at  the  speechless,  white- 
faced,  passion-shaken  "  mite  "  before  him ; 
then,  catching  me  up  in  his  arms,  he  de- 
manded sharply,  "  What  does  this  mean  ? 
what  have  you  been  doing  to  the  child?" 
And  while  the  servant  volubly  explained, 
he  carried  me  outside,  and  sprinkled  water 
on  my  face,  and  gave  me  some  to  drink, 
and  gently  forced  open  my  little  clenched- 
up  fists,  and  kissed  each  palm,  and  held 
me  till,  quite  supine,  I  rested  on  his  breast, 
and  putting  my  arms  about  his  neck, 
weakly  whispered:  "She  's  bad,  she  is; 
she  tooked  my  iwon  and  then  she  made 
fun  to  me." 


•5--  -*«»•■  ^ 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


83 


# 


■•I- 


But  he  said  "  No, "  and  took  me  back 
into  the  kitchen  and  tried  to  demonstrate 
to  me  the  possibility  of  turning  a  beautiful 
pewter  flat-iron  into  a  trembling,  rolling, 
little  liquid  ball,  and  incidentally  to  restore 
the  servant's  character  for  truthfulness. 
At  first  not  even  he  could  convince  me. 
At  last,  however,  when  he  had  dropped 
the  hot  liquid  into  a  cup  of  cold  water  and 
the  pewter  hardened  again,  I  was  con- 
vinced, and  in  that  moment  there  came  to 
me  a  sense  of  loss,  such  utter,  hopeless  loss, 
as  I  trust  few  babies  ever  know,  and 
sorrow,  without  one  trace  of  anger,  taking 
possession  of  me,  I  wept  as  if  my  heart 
would  break,  and  ever  kept  repeating : 

"I  dess  had  that  one  iwon,  dear  Mr. 
Edwar';  I  only  had  dess  that  one  little 
iwon ! " 

And  Mr.  Edward  gave  a  groan  and 
looked  long  at  me,  and  shook  his  dear 
head,  and  said:  "Mite,  little  Sweetheart, 
life  will  be  hard  for  you."  And  I  was 
true  to  my  sex,  and  instantly  asked, 
"Why?" 

He  did  not  answer  that  question,  but 
told  me  what  he  would  do  if  I  would  cry 


M  I 


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H'    : 


84 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


no  more ;  told  me  of  a  wonderful  toy  of 
real  iron,  just  like  the  flat-irons  the 
grown-ups  used,  only  very  little,  that  he 
would  get  for  me  from  the  city,  that  very 
day. 

I  shook  my  unbelieving  head  and  an- 
swered with  a  sob :  "  Tan't  put  it  on  the 
stove!" 

And  he  said:  "Yes,  you  can,  dear;  you 
can  make  it  hot  enough  to  blister  every 
finger  you  own ;  just  think  of  that !  And 
you  can  burn  clothes,  and  frighten  your 
mother,  and  keep  everybody  nice  and 
lively."  And  when  he  added  that  I  might 
iron  a  handkerchief  for  him,  and  do  it  all 
myself,  I  seemed  quite  won  over,  till  he 
wished  me  to  promise  that  I  would  be 
happy  while  he  was  away.  Then  I  f  rown- 
ingly  shook  my  head.  I  could  not  be 
coaxed  to  give  the  desired  promise.  At 
last  he  asked  me  why;  and  I  burst  out 
passionately :  "  Tan't  be  happy  wif out  Mr. 
Edwar' ! " 

How  he  laughed!— the  ringing  laugh  of 
youth.  Then  he  began  telling  me  all  I 
could  do :  there  were  the  flowers  to  see  to, 


"t.. 


=*MY  MR.  EDWARD" 


85 


and  the  kitties  to  play  with,  and  I  might, 
perhaps,  fish  up  my  doll's  eyes. 

At  that  point  I  interrupted  by  exclaim- 
ing :  "  DolPs  eyes  in  her  head  now,  bgfe ; 
they  's  glued  fast ;  muvver  did  it !  "    Anr* 
I  ran  and  brought  the  fair  object  to  sh 
him. 

His  face  turned  very  red,  and  his  mus- 
tache twitched,  so  that  I  put  my  finger  on 
it,  saying:  "'Stache  squirms."  And  he 
said :  "  My  dear  child,  she  would  make  any- 
thing squirm.  Do  you  know,  I  think  I 
like  her  better  when  she  wears  her  eyes  on 
her  inside;  she  looks  kinder.  Then  you 
can  ask  yourself  your  Sunday  questions 
— and  give  the  answers  plain,  please,  with- 
out any  additions,  such  as  you  gave  father 
yesterday,  when  he  asked  them." 

Instantly  I  was  all  excited,  and  hastened 
to  defend  myself :  "  He  laughed  to  me,  he 
did.  He  dess  ast  me  to  who  was  first 
man,  first  woman.  I  say,  Adam,  Eve; 
and  they  was  in  their  garden  in  dess  naked 
bare  skins,  dess  like  I  am  in  my  baf,  and 
got  shame  to  theirselves,  and  found  a 
lady's  apron  with  leaves  on  't,  and  put  it 


I 

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■'  ,i-P' 


86 


"MY  MR.  EDWARD" 


on.    And  he  laughed  to  me,  and  you  told 

me  that  you'  own  self." 

He  tossed  me  up  in  the  air,  and  cried: 
Mite,  you  will  be  the  death  of  me,  yet ! " 

Oh,  heedless,  cruel  words !    Then  he  said : 


a 


it 


Now  tell  me  good-by;  I  'm  going  for 
your  iron,  my  little  maid." 

How  I  clung  to  him !  I  am  glad  to-day 
of  every  kiss  I  pressed  upon  his  kind  face. 
He  loosened  my  strangling  embrace  at  last, 
and  went  over  to  the  stables. 

A  little  after,  as  I  sat  on  the  grass  pre- 
paring to  tie  my  doll  into  an  extra  hard 
case  of  cololol,  I  saw  and  heard.  The 
horse  and  trap  were  at  the  door.  My  Mrs. 
Judge  and  my  Miss  Kate  were  crying  and 
my  Mr.  Edward  was  saying :  "  Oh,  non- 
sense, dears!"  And  I  repeated  to  my 
doll,"  Oh,  nonsense,  dear ! "  Then  my  Mr. 
Judge  put  his  hand  on  my  Mr.  Edward's 
shoulder,  and  said  something  I  did  not 
hear.  But  Mr.  Edward— I  always  heard 
what  he  said— answered :  "There  is  no 
danger,  believe  me,  sir."  Then  he  pointed 
to  me,  and  said :  "  She  is  nothing  but  a 
child,  but  you  don't  know  how  deeply  she 


''MY  MR.    EDWARD" 


87 


feels."  And  then  he  laughed  a  little  laugh, 
and  added:  "You  would  n't  ask  me  to 
break  my  promise  to  a  mere  baby  like 
that,  now,  would  you,  sir  f  " 

And  he  took  his  father's  hand  and  held 
it  a  moment ;  then  he  kissed  my  Mrs.  Judge 
and  my  Miss  Kate,  and  got  into  his  trap, 
and  turned  his  horse's  head  toward  the 
plague-stricken  city.  Once  he  turned  and 
caught  my  eye,  and  waved  his  hat  and 
called,  "Good-by,  Sweetheart!"  And  I 
kissed  both  my  hands  and  cried:  "Come 
back,  dea'  Mr.  Edwar' ;  come  back ! " 

But  he  laughed  and  drove  away.  So, 
laughter  in  eye  and  lip  and  voice,  and 
in  his  heart  the  purest  love  for  the  lit- 
tle stranger  child  within  his  gates, —a  no- 
body to  him,  a  bit  from  the  flotsam  and 
jetsam  of  life's  ocean,— he  left  us,  in  the 
heart  of  the  golden  day. 

I  was  very  lonely,  and  I  am  afraid  I 
grew  cross.  I  remembered  suddenly  that 
my  dear  Mr.  Edward  liked  my  doll's  eyes 
inside  of  her ;  so  with  a  cheerful  forefinger 
I  poked  them  both  back  again,  and  rattled 
them  about  in  her  poor  empty  head  with 


88 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


inn 


L  * 


great  satisfaotion.  Then,  in  memory  of  a 
cold  my  Mr.  Judge  liad  taken  through 
falling  asleep  out  hero  on  the  grass,  I  left 
her  in  the  shadiest,  dampest  place  I  could 
find,  charging  her  to  "  take  cold  and  sneeth 
hard." 

Then  I  wandered  off,  looking  for  my 
kittens;  but  the  whole  seven  were  curled 
up  in  one  furry,  sleepy  mass,  at  the  bottom 
of  an  old  market-basket,  and  play  they 
would  not.  One  or  two  of  them  yawned, 
showing  me  their  sharp  little  fish-bone 
teeth,  but  that  was  all.  I  called  them 
"nasty  little  lazies,"  and  then  felt  sorry 
for  it,  because  my  Miss  Kate  had  told  me 
that  "nasty"  was  not  a  nice  word  for 
very  small  girls  to  use. 

I  was  so  lonely,  so  disappointed.  I 
turned  at  last  and  trotted  off  to  where  my 
mother  sat  working,  and  laying  my  head 
against  her  knee,  I  burst  out  crying.  She 
pushed  me  from  her,  catching  up  her  work 
and  exclaiming  sharply:  "You  must  n't 
cry  on  this  dimity ;  you  '11  spoil  it !  "  then 
drew  me  back  again  and  let  me  cry  in 
peace  on  her   sewing-apron,  that  being 


Hi 


a 


"MY  MK.   EDWAUD" 


80 


quite  teai-proof,  and  her  own.  Poor 
mother!  her  first  consideration  was  for 
her  employer's  material.  Her  baby's  grief 
was  a  secondary  affair.  Poverty  teaches 
many  mothers  just  such  lessons. 

I  slid  down  beside  her,  and  almost 
directly  noticed  a  fly  in  a  bar  of  sunshine 
on  the  floor.  He  had  been  in  trouble 
recently,  and  was  working  over  himself 
at  a  great  rate,  straightening  a  crumpled, 
bent  wing.  Then  he  stood  upon  two  front 
legs,  and  took  a  pair  of  middle  legs,  or 
arms,  and  crossed  them  over  the  small  of 
his  back,  which  he  rubbed  and  rubbed. 
Then  he  twisted  his  legs  together,  and 
then  untwisted  them,  which  made  me 
laugh.  And  he  looked  up  at  mo  and 
said  "  Hallo ! "  and  I  said  "  Hallo ! "  too. 
Then  he  ran  backward  a  few  steps,  and 
jumped  up  in  the  air,  and  buzzed  a  little; 
and  then  he  went  at  his  back  again,  and 
he  said:  "You  wait  a  minute,  till  I  get 
this  dried  milk  off  my  back,  and  I  '11  show 
you  something  funny.  I  know  you; 
you  're  the  little  girl  that  feeds  the  cats." 
And  I  said :  "  Do  you  know  my  Mr.  Ed- 


I 
f  * 

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DO 


"MY   MR.   EDWAUD" 


war'  ? "  And  ho  shut  one  eyo,  and  ho  said : 
"Lot  mo  see;  is  ho  ticklish!"  And  I  an- 
swered :  "  Yes."  And  he  said :  "  Then  I 
know  him.  I  was  walking  on  the  back  of 
liis  nock  all  the  morning.  He  's  restless ; 
it  was  he  that  banged  my  wing  all  up  this 
way.  Now,  miss,  my  back 's  clean ;  did  you 
ever  see  a  fly  take  his  head  off?"  I  said: 
"  No."  "  Dear  me ! "  he  said,  "  that  's  odd. 
Well,  just  look  here,  now."  And  he  put 
one  hand  up  at  the  back  of  his  little  red 
head  and  unfastened  a  hook,  and  down 
came  his  head  in  both  hands,  and  he  held  it 
out  to  me  and  said :  "  Do  you  want  to  take 
a  look  at  it  ? "  And  just  then  my  mother's 
voice  said:  "If  you  don't  wake  up,  you 
will  get  no  bread  and  milk  for  supper ;  the 
eats  Avill  take  it  all." 

The  fly  had  gone,  and  taken  his  head 
with  him,  though  I  looked  carefully  for 
them  both. 

After  my  supper,  I  gathered  all  my 
seven  kittens— very  attentive  to  me  now 
—into  my  lap,  and  sat  in  the  corner  and 
asked  them  all  my  Sunday  questions,  and 
told  them  who  made  them,  and  what  of; 


I 


"MY  MK.    EDWARD" 


01 


and  tho  Sunday  subjects  soemod  to  exert 
the  same  influence  over  cats  that  tliey  ex- 
ert over  people,  for  we  all  fell  asleep  to- 
gether. 

Then  I  was  being  bumped  a  good  deal, 
and  I  opened  my  eyes  long  enough  to 
see  that  it  was  my  mother  who  carried 
me,  and  that  the  candle  was  crooked,  and 
that  the  grease  ran  down  on  one  side  of  it 
at  each  upward  step  on  the  stair.  When 
next  I  opened  my  eyes  I  was  in  the  dark. 
I  put  out  my  arms  for  my  mother;  she 
was  not  there.  At  the  same  moment  I 
heard  steps,— hurried  steps  in  the  hall, 
steps  that  passed  my  door,  and  then  others 
that  paused  there,— and  the  door  was 
thrown  quickly  open.  My  mother  came 
in,  a  candle  in  her  hand,  and  she  all  dressed 
as  for  the  daytime.  She  never  glanced  at 
me,  and  she  looked  so  strange,  I  felt  afraid 
of  her.  She  threw  open  the  door  of  a 
closet,  and  began  pulling  down  from  a 
high  shelf  great  big  woolen  blankets ;  and 
suddenly  right  above  her  on  the  ceiling 
there  appeared  a  gigantic,  terrifying  black 
head. 


m 


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02 


*'MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


U  \\       f 


i 


I  murmured,  "Mama!"  but  she  never 
noticed  me.  She  stooped  and  lifted  the 
blankets,  and  turned  with  the  light  toward 
the  door,  followed  all  the  time  by  that 
great  head.  Then,  more  loudly,  I  cried ; 
"  Oh,  mama !  "  But  she  answered  sharply, 
"  Hush,  keep  quiet ! "  and  went  out,  shut- 
ting the  door  so  quickly  I  could  not  tell 
whether  the  great  black  head  went  with 
her,  or  whether  it  was  shut  up  there  with 
me.  I  was  not  afraid  of  the  darkness,— 
that  is  a  terror  reserved  for  the  well-to-do, 
—so  I  flung  my  little  legs  over  the  edge 
of  the  bed,  intending  to  go  after  my 
mother.  But  the  thought  of  that  head 
stopped  me.  If  it  could  move  all  over  the 
ceiling  and  wall,  it  might  come  down  to 
the  floor.  So  up  I  pulled  myself  again,  and 
in  the  hot  summer  night,  with  little  limbs 
cast  all  abroad,  and  long  hair  thrown  up- 
ward over  the  pillow,  I  waited  for  my 
mother,  and  wondered  if  she  would  be 
afraid  of  the  great  head— wondered  what 
she  wanted  of  the  big  blankets— and— and 
— and— 

"  What  was  that  ?    Oh,  what  was  it !    A 


4 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


03 


cry  so  long,  so  piercing,  so  awful,  in  that 
still  blackness,  it  seemed  to  reach  from 
the  garden  clear  np  into  the  heaven  where 
my  Mr.  Edward  said  the  great  God  lived 
who  loved  all  little  children.  I  sat  there 
stiff  with  fright,  while  something  like  cold 
air  seemed  to  creep  through  the  roots  of 
my  thick-growing  hair.  I  could  not  move, 
but  finally  I  heard  my  own  voice  say: 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Ed  war',  where  are  you  f "  And 
I  waited  and  waited,  and  at  last  I  slept, 
for  when  I  opened  my  eyes  the  room  was 
full,  full,  oh,  full  of  sunlight,  and  I  was 
alone,  at:  usual,  a  fact  I  accepted  cheer- 
fully enough,  and  slid  myself  down  from 
the  high  bed,  and  picking  up  as  much  of 
my  wardrobe  as  I  could  carry,  I  started 
down-stairs,  going  backward  on  knees 
and  elbows.  My  cargo  was  not  well 
placed,  I  fear,  for  it  shifted  before  the  voy- 
age was  over,  and  a  good  deal  of  it  went 
by  the  board,  for  when  I  reached  the  foot 
of  the  stph's  and  looked  up,  I  saw  one 
small  petticoat,  two  socks,  and  one  shoe 
in  my  wake.  I  was  not  disturbed  by  that, 
however;  such  things  had  happened  be- 


94 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


1    • 


I  I 


fore ;  but  uever  before  had  I  failed  to  find 
my  mother  sitting  there  at  work. 

The  air  was  heavy  with  an  odor  I  de- 
tested—that of  vinegar.  My  kittens  seven, 
with  their  appetites,  were  awaiting  me, 
though,  and  with  erect  tails  quivering  at 
their  tips  with  excitement,  followed  me  in 
line  as  I  went  to  get  their  bowl  of  milk. 
But  there  was  no  milk.  Instead,  there 
stood  upon  the  chair  a  great  plate  in  which 
mustard  had  been  mixed.  I  wrinkled  up 
my  nose  disgustedly;  I  hated  its  smell. 
Then,  too,  I  had  always  seen  it  mixed 
daintily  and  in  small  quantities;  and  I 
thought :  "  Some  one  will  get  scolded  for 
making  such  a  lot." 

There  was  no  one  in  that  room,  no  one 
in  the  next.  No  cook  or  dairywoman,  no 
waitress,  no  mother.  I  went  slowly  out- 
side in  my  bare  feet.  I  heard  the  cows 
moo  and  moo ;  but  there  were  no  men,  not 
one  grown-up  to  be  seen,  no,  not  anywhere. 
I  laughed  aloud.  The  sun  shone  hot  and 
bright,  and  all  this  world  was  mine.  I 
ran  my  feet  into  the  edges  of  uncut  grass, 
and  cried  out  at  the  cold,  and  stumbled 


w 


*'MY   MR.   EDWARD" 


05 


back  ill  haste  to  the  shaven  lawn  again. 
I  watched  a  great  bumblebee  pushing 
itself  out  backward  from  a  scarlet  flower, 
and  one  of  my  seven  a-hungered  ones 
licked  my  naked  ankle  with  its  rou^n  little 
tongue,  and  I  fairly  gurgled  with  delighted 
laughter.  I  saw  a  toad,  too,  and  was  going 
to  scream,  but  I  remembered  my  Mr.  Ed- 
ward told  me  that  he  had  ear-rings,  or  a 
breastpin,  or  some  sort  of  jewelry  in  his 
top-head,  and  was  very  wise  to  keep  it  out 
of  sight.  And  he  knew,  too,  when  it  was 
going  to  rain,  but  he  would  n't  ever  tell 
anybody.  So  I  just  did  n't  scream,  nor 
touch  him,  either,  but  let  him  sit  and  wink 
his  eyes. 

Then  I  fared  forth  to  the  front  of  the 
great  house.  Still  no  grown-ups.  The 
lake  was  blue  and  still;  the  house  was 
still,  the  shutters  all  tight  closed.  Could 
every  one  have  gone  away  and  left  just 
me  behind  ! 

Then  suddenly,  with  widening  eyes  of 
pleased  astonishment,  I  saw  something 
gently  waving  at  the  door,  something  thin 
and  black,  and,  yes— yes,  there  were  long 


»■   I 


I 


OG 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


11  U; 


ribbons,  too !  "  Oh,"  I  said,  "  they  failed 
out  of  the  window,  and  I  can  have  'em  for 
my  dolly's  dwess ! "  and  I  ran  to  the  steps. 

When  there  was  company,  or  when  any 
one  was  looking  at  me,  I  could  with  great 
difficulty  get  up  those  steps  upon  my  feet ; 
but  now,  at  that  moment,  haste  was  the 
first  consideration,  and  I  made  the  ascent 
on  hands  and  kn^es.  I  had  much  trouble 
in  getting  the  long  black  things  free  from 
the  door-knob,  but  at  last  I  had  them,  and 
gurgling  with  delight,  I  trotted  back 
around  the  house,  trailing  my  awful  trea- 
sure-trove behind  me ;  and  it  seemed  to  me 
I  heard  from  somewhere  within,  in  the 
closed  house,  voices  singing  a  Sunday 
song.  I  was  not  sure  of  that,  and  I  only 
cared  for  my  mother's  scissors  now,  and 
my  dolly. 

I  had  obtained  both,  and  sitting  on  the 
floor  with  bare  feet  stretched  out  before 
me,  the  skirt  measure  taken,  I  was  just 
putting  the  scissors  to  the  crape  when 
there  was  a  cry— one  rough  hand  dragged 
me  to  my  feet,  and  another  one  pulled 
from  me  "my  own  things,  the  things  I 


-S' 


*'MY  MR,  EDWARD" 


07 


r  failed 
'erii  for 

e  steps. 

leii  any 

h  great 
y  feet ; 

5^as  the 
ascent 
rouble 

e  from 

^,  and 
back 

[  trea- 
tome 

n  the 

inday 

'only 

,  and 

a  the 

9fore 

just 

^hen 

rged 

lied 

^s  I 


I 


had  found  my  own  sel',"  and  I  was  shaken 
violently.  The  grown-ups  had  come  back, 
and  they  were  all  cross  to  me,  and  oh !  I 
wanted  my  Mr.  Edward.  He  would  n't  be 
cross,  and  he  would  tell  me  why  all  these 
grown-ups  had  been  crying,  and  what  was 
the  voice  in  the  dark  night,  that  went  up, 
up  in  the  sky,  and  "  'f raided  "  me  so. 

I  have  no  memory  of  being  dressed,  or 
of  anything  but  my  search  for  Mr.  Edward. 
I  asked  every  one  for  him,  until  some  one 
—I  don't  know  who  it  was,  but  may  God 
forgive  the  cruel  act— some  one  caught  me 
up  and  said  roughly :  "  Come  here ;  I  '11 
show  you  your  Mr.  Edward ! "  And  a  voice 
said :  "  Don't— oh,  don't  do  that ! " 

But  the  one  who  carried  me  went  on 
quickly  through  the  house,  so  still  and  all 
so  dark,  and  up  the  stairs,  where  the  odor 
of  vinegar  grew  stronger  as  we  went. 
And  then  we  were  in  a  hall,  and  at  the 
farther  end  there  was  a  woman  all  in 
black,  on  her  knees  by  a  door.  Her  face 
was  bowed  down,  but  her  hair  was  gray, 
and  I  knew  it  was  my  Mrs.  Judge.  I  was 
frightened ;  I  tried  to  get  down ;  but  the 


I' 

f"  I    I 


\l 


98 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD '^ 


■'  \ 


nt.ir   ' 


H- 


strong,  cruel  one  held  me  fast,  and  opened 
the  door,  and  we  entered  the  room.  It 
was  dark,  save  for  one  long,  bright  ray  of 
sunlight  which  came  from  an  imperfect 
shutter.  That  ray  fell  upon  a  great,  long 
box.  I  struggled  violently,  and  then  held 
out  my  arms  and  cried  in  an  agony  of  ter- 
ror, "Mr.  Edwar' !  oh,  Mr.  Edwar' ! "  while 
my  tormentor  went  straight  on,  and  by 
main  force  held  my  face  directly  above  the 
opening  in  that  great,  black  box.  But  I 
swiftly  closed  my  eyes,  and  with  my  last 
ounce  of  strength  stiffened  my  little  body 
out  in  one  act  of  repulsion,  tried  to  cry 
aloud,  but  found  the  waves  of  the  lake 
were  beating  high  in  the  room,  and  all  was 
cold  and  dark. 

Then  I  was  in  bed  in  daytime,  and  I 
could  not  speak  or  eat  without  a  scold- 
ing. And  then  there  was  a  tall,  gray  man 
there,  a  doctor,  who  seemed  very  sorry 
about  something,  and  he  said:  "Bring 
her  favorite  plaything  here."  And  they 
brought  the  kitten  who  wore  her  hair 
parted  in  the  middle  like  my  dear  Miss 
Kate,  and  put  it  on  the  bed ;  but  I  turned 


^    t 


t> 


U-  4 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


99 


my  face  to  the  wall,  and  shivered,  and 
muttered:  "Mr.  Edwar'— I  dess  want  my 
Mr.  Edwar'.''  And  the  sorry  man  said  an- 
gry things  about  being  cruel,  and  about 
somebody's  brain  being  shocked,  and  he 
patted  me  and  went  away. 

Then  I  was  out  in  the  garden  again,  and 
still  searching  for  my  one  friend.  I  came, 
at  last,  face  to  face  with  that  pitiful  rid- 
dle: How  could  my  dear  Mr.  Edward 
possibly  be  down  in  the  ground  at  that 
place  over  there  they  called  "  a  grave,"  and 
at  the  same  time  be  up,  up  in  the  blue 
where  the  great  God  was? 

I  was  unhappy.  No  one  was  unkind  to 
me.  I  still  had  my  little  lessons  in  let- 
ters and  sewing  little  seams,  and  in  gentle 
manners.  But  they— they  were  different. 
I  always  felt  cold  when  I  was  with  them. 
One  day  I  had  on,  at  my  own  request,  my 
best  dress  and  my  slippers,  and  I  was  very 
proud  of  them ;  and  on  that  day  I  displayed 
myself,  and  tried  all  my  little  airs  and 
graces,  to  the  very  last  one,  to  attract  their 
attention  and  win  a  smile  from  my  family ; 
but  in  vain.    I  felt  so  small, sc  hurt;  the 


4 


I 


■1 


t 


I'-i 


t'i 


'If: 


'5 


'V' ' 

!!  ' 

Ml  .! 


IE   -'  I- 


\\ 


100 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


pain  was  in  my  throat  again ;  and  I  laid  a 
trembling  little  hand  on  Miss  Kate's  knee 
and  said : 

"  Dea'  Miss  Kate,  ain't  the  rest  of  you 
ever  goin'  to  come  back  no  more  ? " 

She  looked  quickly  at  me,  and  said: 
"What— why,  what  do  you  mean?" 

In  dumb  misery,  I  stood  trying,  trying 
to  get  some  words  to  make  her  know  my 
meaning.    At  last  I  stammered  out : 

"  The  rest— the  other  rest  of  you— that 
used  to  be— when— when  Mr.  Edwar' 
was—  1 "  Then,  with  a  burst  of  sorrowful 
triumph,  I  cried,  "  He  loved  Mite,  he  did !  " 
and  stood  there  sobbing. 

My  Mrs.  Judge  got  up  quickly,  and  said, 
"  May  God  forgive  ns  all ! "  and  she  went 
straight  out  of  the  room  to  my  Mr.  Judge 
outslie.  And  Miss  Kate  was  very  pale,  and 
she  looked  hard  at  me,  and  then  she  said, 
"  Oh,  Mite,  forgive  me ! "  and  her  face  be- 
gan to  work,  and  she  drew  me  to  her  and 
kissed  me,  and  smoothed  my  hair  and  said 
softly  twice  over :  "  Edward's  little  Sweet- 
heart !   Edward's  little  Sweetheart ! " 

And  then  she  dried  her  eyes,  and  stood 


"MY  MR.   EDWARD" 


101 


up,  and  said  quite  loud :  "  Yes,  Mite,  the 
other  part  shall  come  back  to  you  soon— 
soon  as  may  be,  dear ! "  And  she  took  my 
hand  and  led  me  out  of  the  house.  As 
we  crossed  the  porch,  I  looked  back,  and 
saw  my  Mr.  Judge  sitting  in  the  shadow, 
his  hands  resting  on  his  cane,  and  my 
Mrs.  Judge  stood  beside  him  with  her  arm 
about  his  neck. 

But  we  went  on,  out  into  the  blazing 
sunshine,  and  suddenly  I  took  my  finger 
from  my  lips  to  point  with  delight  to  a 
branch  of  plums  directly  facing  us. 
"  Oh,"  I  cried,  "  see ;  the  green,  hard  plums 
are  all  made  blue  and  sweet  now.  Who 
did  it?" 

She  looked  up  in  the  sky  a  moment, 
then  down  at  me,  and  said  very  low: 
"God  did  it!" 

She  turned  her  gentle  face  a  moment 
toward  my  Mr. Edward's  grave;  then  she 
raised  herself  up  very  straight  and  tall, 
and  said  out  loud  and  sweet: 

"  God,  who  doeth  all  things  well." 

And  that 's  my  last  recollection  of  my 
family.    I  can  never  see  them  after  that. 


If 


; 


: 


102 


"MY  MR.  EDWARD" 


My  greatest  pain  in  recalling  them  all,  I 
think,  lies  in  the  feeling  I  have— a  feeling 
that  Is  strong  as  absolute  fact— that  my 
Mr.  Judge  never  rested  his  eyes  upon  my 
face,  from  the  moment  Mr.  Edward  turned 
toward  the  stricken  city. 


rk 


i 


■j 


ill,  I 

iliiig 
my 
my 

•lied 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


I. 


^\- 

i  AC 

w 

.irki- 

■  ' ^f '> 

..^i-*la*: 

lOU  must  often  have  hoard  the  ex- 
pression, "  He  looks  as  thougli 
he  had  just  come  out  of  a  baud- 
box."  Well,  when  Theophihis 
arrived  at  his  present  home  ho  literally 
stepped  out  of  a  bandbox,  in  which  he  had 
traveled  from  Philadelphia,  in  company 
with  Antoinette  and  Susan  B.  Theophi- 
lus — his  charming  wives. 

Perhaps,  for  the  sake  of  the  proprieties, 
it  should  be  stated  at  once  that  Thooplii- 
lus  is  not  a  Mormon,  but  an  aristocratic, 
handsome,  and  very,  oh,  very  small  ban- 
tam rooster;  hence  his  otherwise  peculiar 
domestic  relations. 

When  the  bandbox  was  brought  into 
the  house,  there  was  tied  over  its  top  a 
piece  of  mosquito-netting ;  and  just  as  the 
mistress  eagerly  pulled  it  off,  the   gar- 

105 


; 


100 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


dener  cried :  "  Take  care,  mum ;  they  '11 
dash  out  and  be  breakin'  everything." 

But  the  little  fellow  said  quickly :  "  Keep 
still,  my  dears;  there  's  nothing  to  be 
afraid  of;  that  fellow  must  take  us  for  a 
lot  of  wild  prairie-hens,  confound  him !  " 

While  all  the  time  the  mistress  was  cry- 
ing :  "  Oh,  you  lovely  things !  Oh,  is  n't 
he  a  little  gem?-'  and  she  softly  laid  her 
fingers  on  his  head  and  stroked  him,  at 
which  he  drew  a  thin  white  film  across  his 
bright  garnet  eyes,  lifted  up  his  feathers 
after  the  fashion  of  a  parrot,  and  said: 
"  K-r-r-krut !  k-r-r-krut !  "  And  every  one 
laughed  aloud,  for  though  he  spoke  in  his 
own  language,  even  the  men  and  women 
understood  that  he  wanted  the  uistress  to 
go  on  rubbing  his  head  and  stroking  his 
feathers,  which  she  smilingly  did  until 
Antoinette's  jealousy  showed  itself  in  a 
really  sharp  peck  at  the  mistress's  hand; 
but  in  answering  her  husband's  indignant 
inquiries,  she  defended  herself  very  clev- 
erly, declaring  she  had  not  pecked  at  the 
lady's  hand,  but  at  her  ring.  She  reminded 
him  of  her  attacks  of  indigestion,  of  her 


■ 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


107 


old-time  longing  for  diamonds,  and  added 
that,  as  they  were  the  hardest  stones  in  the 
world,  she  thought  if  she  could  get  one  or 
two  diamonds  into  her  gizzard  they  would 
grind  up  her  food  so  thoroughly  there,  she 
need  suffer  no  more  from  indigestion  or 
bad  dreams;  and  it  had  been  the  sudden 
flash  of  the  stone  that  tempted  her  to  peek. 
And  her  husband,  loving  her,  was  easily 
convinced.  But  Susan  B.  wondered  how 
on  earth  she  dared  to  look  him  in  the  face 
and  tell  such  a  lot  of  fibs. 

Meanwhile  the  mistress,  rubbing  the 
hand  Antoinette  had  pecked,  was  search- 
ing her  mind  for  a  name  for  the  new-comer. 

"You  see,"  she  said,  "he  is  so  very, 
very  small,  I  can't  give  him  a  short  name ; 
if  I  did  you  could  n't  see  him  at  all.  No ; 
he  must  be  built  out:  what  he  lacks  in 
inches  must  be  made  up  in  name.  Then, 
too,  it  must  be  one  that  can't  be  belittled 
by  a  nickname.  I  think,"  said  she, 
"Theophilus  Thistlesifter  would  do 
nicely."  But  the  men  in  her  service  ob- 
jected unanimously— German,  Swede,  and 
Irish.  As  one  man,  they  declared  the  name 


f» 


i ; 


108 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


'    li 


to  be  hard  to  pronounce  quickly  on  even 
a  workday,  and  impossible  on  a  holiday. 
And  the  mistress,  who  was  a  just  woman, 
admitted  that,  for  example,  on  the  evening 
of  the  glorious  Fourth  of  July  it  might  be 
a  difficult  task  for  a  man  to  call  Theophi- 
lus  Thistlesifter  to  his  supper  or  his 
perch,  as  the  case  might  be ;  therefore  she 
dropped  the  second  name,  but  clung  to 
Theophilus,  declaring  that  a  respectable 
man  should  be  able  to  pronounce  that 
word  in  any  circumstances. 

And  so  he  was  named;  and  then  the 
gardener  lifted  the  box  and  carried  the 
entire  family  down  to  that  portion  of  the 
chicken-house  and  -yard  that  had  been 
wired  off  especially  for  their  use,  put  the 
box  down,  and  withdrew.  Then,  after  a 
moment's  pause,  Theophilus  said :  "  Come 
on,  girls ;  I  'm  going  to  get  out  of  here  and 
stretch."    And  out  he  hopped. 

Pretty?  Well,  if  his  mistress  thought 
him  pretty  in  that  bandbox,  what  could  she 
think  of  him  out  on  the  ground !  Feathers 
white—a  fairly  glistening,  snowy  white; 
feet  and  legs  yellow  to  the  tint  of  gold; 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


109 


comb  and  wattles  blazing  scarlet;  while 
the  carriage  of  his  small  mightiness  was 
his  crowning  glory.  With  his  head  thrown 
back  till  it  almost  touched  his  upright 
tail,  his  wings  held  slightly  out  from  his 
sides,  his  chest  thrust  out,  he  stepped 
haughtily  about,  as  if  seeking  an  antag- 
onist ;  and  many  a  time  since  then  has  he 
proved  that  his  tiny  body  thrills  with  the 
high-hearted  courage  of  the  warrior,  and 
he  is  ever  ready  to  hurl  his  ounces  of 
weight  against  the  pounds  of  his  Plymouth 
Rock  or  black  Spanish  enemies— roosters 
who  might  easily  destroy  Theophilus  by 
the  simple  process  of  stepping  on  him. 

After  stretching,  he  looked  about  him  a 
bit,  then  gave  a  few  short,  quick  scratches 
at  the  earth  while  tenderly  calling: 
"Chook,  chook!"  And  at  that  well-known 
summons  both  the  ladies  hopped  out  of 
the  bandbox  and  ran  to  eat  the  refresh- 
ment he  had  provided  for  them,  while  he 
remarked :  "  Well,  loves,  this  is  New  York, 
our  new  home;  and,  as  far  as  I  can  see, 
the  air,  the  sky,  and  the  earth  are  about 
the  same ;  but  I  do  notice  that  the  bugs 


110 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


i        !l- 


and  worms  here  seem  to  be  of  quicker 
and  livelier  movement  than  those  at  our 
old  Philadelphia  home ;  so  you  will  do  well 
to  keep  your  eyes  open  and  your  bills 
well  sharpened,  ready  to  come  the  moment 
I  ring  the  dinner-bell." 

That  was  Theophilus's  one  joke;  but 
both  ladies,  politely  holding  their  claws 
before  their  open  bills,  laughed  heartily. 
For  you  see  they  were  really  very  fond  of 
their  handsome  mite  of  a  husband,  and 
though  they  heard  it  every  day,  they 
would  not  have  let  his  only  joke  fall  flat 
for  the  world.  And  their  laughter  was 
sweet  in  his  ears,  and  he  swelled  out  with 
self-satisfaction  till  he  really  was  in  dan- 
ger of  exploding. 

However,  he  had  to  explore  their  new 
domain,  and  he  did  it  thoroughly,  while 
the  ladies  somewhat  timidly  peeked  into 
the  house  to  see  what  the  nests  were  like. 
Antoinette— so  called  because  of  her  pride 
and  her  fixed  idea  that  her  profile  was 
queenly— was  purer  bred  than  Susan  B., 
who  could  never  have  been  exhibited,  be- 
cause she  wore  a  pale,  straw-colored  half- 


1 


1 


TPIE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


111 


handkerchief  about  her  neck,  and  also  (of 
course  this  is  mentioned  in  strict  confi- 
dence) had  a  few  feathers  on  her  legs.  It 
is  probably  not  too  much  to  say  that  those 
feathers  greatly  embittered  Susan  B.'s  hie. 
Still,  she  was  very  domestic,  and  had  great 
executive  ability;  and  if  the  nests  were 
wrong  in  any  way,  she  could  kick  them 
into  shape  quicker  than  any  hen  on  the 
place,  be  she  widowed,  married,  or  six^^le. 
Finally  Theophilus  came  back,  reporting 
the  place  as  fairly  comfortable,  a  little 
small,  perhaps,  but  he  had  been  favorably 
impressed  by  the  mistress,  and  was  in- 
clined to  regard  this  enforced  exclusive- 
ness  as  a  compliment  to  their  quality,  and 
doubtless  in  time  they  would  be  permitted 
greater  liberty.  He  then  escorted  them 
with  much  high  stepping  to  the  water- 
dish,  where  they  all  drank,  gratefully  lifting 
their  tiny  faces  skyward  at  each  cooling 
swallow;  and  after  that,  with  astonishing 
dignity  for  such  wee  creatures,  they  retired 
to  their  corner  of  the  house,  where  The- 
ophilus selected  a  perch  he  thought  suited 
to  their  grasp,  and,  with  perfect  justice. 


'il 


'J 

'i   t 


I 


112 


THS  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


i  I 


i. 


ll 


1 


placed  himself  in  the  middle,  as  between 
Antoinette  and  Susan  B.  he  could  watch 
over  them  with  equal  care.  But  Susan  al- 
ways managed  to  be  the  last  one  to  mount 
the  perch— she  so  hated  to  have  any  one 
notice  those  wretched  leg-feathers  of  hers. 

That  night,  just  at  midnight,  the  velvety 
black  silence  was  suddenly  pierced  as  full 
of  holes  as  a  tin  skimmer  by  the  voice 
of  Theophilus,  whose  crow  had  the  height, 
the  depth,  the  length,  and  the  strength  of 
a  small  calliope ;  and  the  mistress,  sitting 
up  in  bed  holding  her  hands  to  her  tingling 
ears,  exclaimed :  "  Oh,  the  conceited  little 
aristocratic  wretch !  That  clarion  call  must 
be  a  challenge  to  all  the  dead  game-cocks 
of  the  colonial  period ;  for  his  pride  is  so 
great,  he  would  much  prefer  associating 
with  a  well-bred  ghostly  rooster  of  Wash- 
ington's time,  rather  than  with  a  common 
flesh-and-blood  barn-yard  fowl." 

But  be  that  as  it  may,  from  that  time  to 
this,  at  the  unholy  hour  of  twelve  mid- 
night, and  at  three  in  the  morning,  win- 
ter or  summer,  Theophilus  rises  in  his 
pajamas,  and  sends  forth  his  sleep-destroy- 


■Ai 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


113 


between 
watch 
isan  al- 
mount 
my  one 
of  hers, 
velvety 
as  full 
e  voice 
)  height, 
3ngth  of 
,  sitting 
tingling 
ed  little 
tall  must 
ae-cocks 
ide  is  so 
ociating 
f  Wash- 
common 

b  time  to 
ve  mid- 
ng,  win- 
s  in  his 
■destroy- 


ing crow ;  and  if  he  has  not  yet  succeeded 
in  raising  the  dead,  he  has  at  least  pros- 
trated the  living  on  more  than  one  occasion. 
But  the  quality  that  was  really  to  make 
him  popular  in  the  neighborhood —a  self- 
sacrificing  devotion  to  his  wives  as  lasting 
as  it  was  delicate— showed  itself  the  very 
next  day  after  his  arrival.  Whenever, 
during  the  routine  of  domestic  duties,  one 
of  the  ladies  found  it  was  time  to  deposit 
a  pretty,  toy-like  egg  in  one  of  the  nests, 
she  assumed  a  nonchalant,  even  an  absent- 
minded  expression,— sometimes,  in  the 
case  of  Susan  B.,  going  so  far  as  to  hum  a 
snatch  of  song,— and,  under  cover  of  this 
indifferent  manner,  separating  herself  from 
the  rest  of  the  family,  discreetly  retired 
to  the  privacy  of  the  nest.  Now,  other 
roosters,  at  such  times,  are  apt  to  be  found 
bandying  compliments  with  pert  young 
pullets,  or  foraging  selfishly  for  them- 
selves, or  picking  fights.  But  not  so  The- 
ophilus.  When  he  missed  his  tiny  wife, 
he  smiled  knowingly,  scratched  up  a  few 
choice  grubs  or  slugs,  and,  under  cover  of 
No.  2's  enjoyment  of  them,  slipped  after 
f 


114 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


i; 


No.  1,  and,  with  a  friondly  "K-r-r-ut, 
k-r-r-ut,"  cuddled  his  handsome  little  body 
down  as  close  to  her  as  ho  could  possibly 
get,  where,  as  egg-laying  seems  to  be  a 
somnolent  occupation,  they  dozed  and 
nodded  sociably  together,  until  the  sudden 
opening  of  her  clear  red  eyes,  and  a 
choking  "Cluck,  cluck!"  in  her  throat, 
told  him  the  seance  was  over ;  when,  in  a 
perfect  whirlwind  of  triumphant  joy,  they 
issued  forth,  and,  cackling  and  strutting, 
made  the  circuit  of  their  inclosure. 

It  seems  strange  that  the  pleasure  of 
laying  an  egg  never  palls.  An  experi- 
enced old  hen  will,  at  her  thousandth 
egg,  show  the  same  hilarious  joy  that  the 
sight  of  her  first  egg  produced  in  her.  But 
then,  a  perfectly  shaped  white  or  ivory- 
tinted  egg  is  a  very  beautiful  thing, 
especially  when  you  find  it  in  a  sweet- 
scented  nest  of  hay  instead  of  the  wooden 
box  of  the  grocer;  and  it  is  a  wonderful 
and  valuable  thing;  and  perhaps,  after 
all,  the  hen  is  to  be  excused  for  showing 
that  she  knows  a  good  thing  when  she 
sees  it. 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPIIILUS 


115 


i 

■:4 


The  peculiar  conduct  of  Theophilus  was 
very  soon  noticed  by  the  men  on  the  place, 
and  they  would  leave  their  work  to  go 
and  stare,  with  rude  laughter  at  his  deli- 
cate attention  to  his  wives.  And  by  and 
by  it  was  spoken  of  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  ladies  came  sometimes  to  peep  into 
the  house  and  see  for  themselves  the  tiny 
little  white  rooster  sitting  close  to  the 
nest's  side,  keeping  his  wife  company  dur- 
ing the  egg-seance,  and  they  bubbled  over 
with  delight  and  admiration;  and  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  Theophilus  enjoyed 
their  praise,  for  he  was  a  little  beau,  to  the 
tips  of  his  small  spurs. 

In  another  way,  too,  he  differed  from 
most  roosters.  The  immense  Plymouth 
Eock  cock,  known  as  Plim,  would,  for  in- 
stance, solemnly  dig  up  some  fat  slug 
or  grub,  and  would  call  loudlj^,  "  Chook, 
cliook!"  and  his  string  of  wives  would 
come  rushing,  all  out  of  breath,  eager  to 
enjoy  their  expected  treat ;  and  when  they 
had  all  had  a  good  look  at  it,  he  would 
say,  "  Now  just  see  me  eat  it !  "  and  down 
he  would  gobble  it  himself,  and  then  strut 


116 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


« 


about  and  think  himself  a  great  creature. 
But  the  gallant  Theophilus  would  set  his 
strong  little  claws  to  work  and  tear  the 
earth  up  like  a  tiny  plow,  and  when  he 
turned  up  some  delicate  morsels  he  would 
"  Chook,  chook ! "  and  the  little  ladies 
would  come  running,  and  Theophilus 
would  draw  back  and  watch  them  while 
they  ate  delightedly  these  fruits  of  his 
toil;  for  Theophilus  was  then,  as  he  is 
now,  a  gentleman. 

They  lived  very  happily.  Antoinette, 
to  be  sure,  had  no  diamonds  for  her  giz- 
zard, but  crushed  oyster- shells  and  clean 
pebbles  seemed  to  answer  as  substitutes. 
Bifc,  Plim  was  the  one  drawback  to  their 
peace  of  mind.  He  was  a  coarse  fellow, 
and  he  used  to  put  his  big  yellow  eye  to 
the  meshes  of  the  wire  net  and  stare  at  the 
Udies  till  they  were  quite  upset ;  and  The- 
ophilus told  him  more  than  once  that  he  'd 
take  it  out  of  his  skin  some  day,  if  they 
both  lived  long  enough.  And  they  did 
live  long  enough,  and  Theophilus  kept 
his  word. 

Yet,  right  in  the  midst  of  their  content- 


THE  GALLANT   TIIEOPHILUS  . 


117 


raent,  disaster  camo.  Poor  Susan  B. !  a 
cruel  accident  took  her  out  of  the  world, 
the  only  comfort  being  that  it  was  so 
swift  a  stroke  that  she  had  not  time  even 
to  fool  fear.  After  that  Theophilus  was 
never  away  from  Antoinette's  side.  The 
men  said  that  he  fed  that  laying  hen  as 
if  she  had  been  a  cheeping  little  downy 
chick.  And  so  sweetly  and  lovingly  they 
were  passing  through  life,  when  Antoi- 
nette began  to  droop,  to  sicken.  All  that 
the  mistress  could  do  was  done— medicine 
given,  artificial  heat  applied.  No  use. 
Antoinette  was  dying,  and  Theophilus 
knew  it.  Poor  little  man  !  She  could  not 
stand  on  her  feeble  legs,  so  he  would  not 
stand  on  his.  He,  from  sitting  beside  her, 
finally  squeezed  himself  into  the  nest  with 
her,  and  there  he  stayed.  He  would  not 
come  away  to  feed,  to  exercise,  or  to  take  a 
dust-bath.  He  left  his  feathers  undressed, 
unpreened.  They  began  to  look  dull ;  his 
bright  comb  was  fading.  And  then,  one 
day,  he  "  K-r-r-uted  "  in  vain.  Poor  Antoi- 
net' e's  little  head  lay  sideways  toward  him, 
for  she  was  quite  dead.    And  when  they 


118 


THE  GALLANT   THEOPIIILUS 


;     I 


went  to  take  her  out  of  the  nest,  to  bury 
her  by  Susan  B.,  Theophilus,  in  a  very  fury 
of  outraged  grief,  flew  at  the  men's  hands 
and  fought  like  a  small  fiend,  and  followed 
them  to  the  opening  in  the  netting,  and 
tried  to  spur  their  legs  as  they  walked. 

With  tearful  eyes  his  mistress  lifted 
him  and  stroked  his  head,  but  he  was 
silent.  No  pleased  "  K-r-r-ut ! "  answered 
her.  And  soon  she  saw  there  was  but  one 
small  chance  of  saving  the  life  of  the  griev- 
ing little  creature.  She  resolved  to  turn 
him  free,  and  let  him  go  with  the  other 
fowls. 

"  Oh,  mum,"  cried  the  gardener,  "  them 
big  cocks  will  lick  the  life  out  of  him ! " 
But  the  mistress  put  her  head  on  one  side 
and  said  thoughtfully :  "  Do  you  think  so ! 
Well,  I  don't."  And  there  suddenly  came 
to  her  memory  the  chorus  of  a  song  an 
old  negress  used  to  sing  at  her  work,  and 
to  herself  she  repeated : 

"  Oh,  put  yer  httle  chicken 
In  de  middle  of  de  ring, 
An'  never  bet  yer  money 
On  a  shanghai ! " 


THE  GALLANT   TIIEOrillTiUS 


119 


i 


Then  slio  added  aloud:  "I  have  faith  to 
boliovo  that  that  littk)  tVUow  is  gunio  clour 
through.  But  even  sliould  another  cock 
bo  too  iiiuch  I'or  him,  he  M  better  far  die 
fighting  than  die  of  grief."  Wliich  shows 
that  the  mistress  had  more  sense  than  she 
is  likely  to  get  credit  for.  And  so  poor, 
lonely,  drooping  little  Theophilus  received 
his  liberty  when  ho  no  longer  cared  for  it. 
Most  of  the  fowls  treated  him  kindly  and 
spoke  him  fair,  but  he  drew  aside  and 
walked  sadly  alone.  Then  up  stalked  the 
immense  Plim,  and  looking  down  on  The- 
ophilus, he  made  a  coarse  remark  about 
his  size.  Theophilus  stopped  and,  looking 
Plim  up  and  down,  said:  "Oh,  I  believe 
you  are  the  rascal  who  used  to  annoy  the 
late  Ladies  Theophilus!  I  told  you  I  'd 
take  it  out  of  your  skin,  and —  " 

Oh,  it  was  a  beautiful  fight !  Big  Plim 
did  his  best ;  but  that  little  fiend,  so  light- 
ning quick,  was  everywhere  except  where 
Plim  struck.  He  seemed  to  have  turned 
himself  into  a  bounding  ball  of  feathers. 
Blood  began  to  show  on  both  of  them. 
The  wildest  confusion  reigned,— hens  and 


i 


I 


f 

'lit 
m 


n 


;  i^. 


\     : 


\ 


M 


120 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


cocks  cackling  and  crowing  and  screech- 
ing,—and  at  last  little  Theophilus  suc- 
ceeded in  what  he  had  been  trying  for 
from  the  first.  The  strain  of  game  blood 
in  him  making  him  fiercely  indifferent  to 
the  punishment  he  received  himself,  he 
fought  on  till  at  last  he  bounded  on  Plim's 
bLck  and  vindictively  attacked  his  eyes; 
and  the  mistress  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  men  running  to  save  big  Ply- 
mouth Eock  Plim  from  her  lion-hearted 
bantam,  the  gallant  Theophilus. 

She  took  him  into  her  lap,  and  as  she 
sponged  his  bloody  little  face  he  cheer- 
fully remarked:  "K-r-r-ut!  k-r-r-ut!" 
And  at  those  welcome  words  his  mistress 
burst  out  singing : 


i' 


Oh,  put  yer  little  chicken 
In  de  middle  of  de  ring, 
An'  never  bet  jOiY  money 
On  a  shanghai ! " 

For  that  fight  had  done  more  to  stim- 
ulate the  small  widower  than  had  all  the 
iron-loaded  water,  the  peppered  food,  and 
the  ale-soaked  bread  offered  him  in  the 


THE  GALLANT   THEOPHILUS 


121 


past  two  weeks.  It  had  increased  the  cir- 
culation of  his  blood,  and  had  given  him 
a  distinct  pleasure;  for  there  are  few 
pleasanter  sensations  than  that  of  "  knock- 
ing spots"  out  of  a  wretch  who  has  in- 
sulted one  held  dear.  Bo  the  mistress  felt 
greatly  encouraged  about  Theophilus,  and 
herself  fed  him  ale-soaked  bread  and 
minced  meat,  while  she  gave  orders  for 
the  care  of  big  Plim,  who,  standing  princi- 
pally on  one  foot,  rumpled  and  discour- 
aged, took,  with  his  one  good  eye,  a  very 
gloomy  view  of  life,  which  was  probably 
intensified  by  his  knowledge  that,  just  be- 
hind him,  two  half- grown  young  cocks  were 
imitating  the  late  "  scrap,"  to  the  hysteri- 
cal delight  of  a  group  of  Plymouth  Rock 
pullets,  before  whom  he  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  posing  as  a  very  god  of  strength 
and  beauty. 

Theopliilus  was  all  right  in  a  day  or 
two,  and  in  less  than  a  fortnight  he  was 
firmly  established  in  the  position  which 
he  fills  to  this  day— a  position  requiring  a 
watchful  eye,  quick  decisior^,  and  plenty 
of  nerve ;  in  fact,  he  polices  the  chicken- 


i 


il 


1^ 


I 


I 


;, 


'  t 


!. 


■:\ 


i  I 


\ii 


If 


122 


THE  GALLANT  TIIEOrillLUS 


yard.  Whonovor  Ihoro  is  a  row  on,  Tlio- 
ophilns  appoarf^,  stopping  vory  higli,  and 
generally  his  passing  iH^twoen  the  belliger- 
ents two  or  three  times  is  enongli,  and  they 
walk  off  in  ditl'erent  directions;  but  if 
things  have  gone  so  far  that  the  "lie"  has 
been  passed  or  "spurs  struck,"  he  turns 
in  and  "licks"  them  both,  thus  keeping 
his  "own  end  up"  wiiile  preventing  pro- 
miscuous (piarreling  and  rowdy  lighting. 

The  thing  that  tries  him  most  is  having 
to  stop  a  hen- fight.  Of  course,  one  mad 
old  hen  can  out-talk  the  finest  rooster  that 
ever  walked,  and  set  two  of  them  going  at 
once,  and  "  that  wry  madness  lies." 

But  it  is  there  his  fine  l^veeding  and 
good  manners  come  in.  He  will  soothe 
them  and  smooth  them,  offering  compli- 
ments to  the  oldest  and  ugliest,  and  to  the 
youngest  and  happiest  his  sympathy  for  the 
sadness  of  her  life,  and  at  last  leave  them 
still  talking  "  nineteen  to  the  dozen,"  but 
not  quarreling,  only  joining  in  praising 
him. 

One  bright  autumn  day,  the  mistress, 
being  out  picking  up  some  pretty  leaves 
to  spoil  the  big  dictionary  with,  heard  the 


THE  GALLANT  TIIEOPIIILUS 


123 


low,  pleased  "  K-r-r-ut !  k-r-r-ut !  "  of  Tho- 
ophilus,  and  slio  said  to  liorselt':  "Why, 
that  sounds  liko  old  times,  wlien  he  at- 
tended his  little  wives'  egg-seances.  I 
wonder  where  he  is  ? " 

She  looked  into  the  house,  under  the 
potting-shed ;  he  was  not  in  either  place. 

Again  she  heard  "  K-r-r-ut !  k-r-r-ut ! '' 
She  entered  the  orchard,  and  there,  under 
an  upturned  cart,  sat  the  glistening  white 
Theophilus,  huddled  close  to  the  lee  side  of 
the  blackest  and  the  biggest  black  Spanish 
hen  on  the  place.  She  loomed  above  him, 
a  veritable  hill  of  black  feathers,  and  while 
he  addressed  her  in  the  tenderest  tones, 
she  looked  down  at  him  and  gently  pecked 
at  two  or  three  grass-seeds  that  had  fallen 
on  his  white  shoulders,  with  just  the  coy 
air  of  possession  with  which  a  young  wife 
will  pick  a  bit  of  fluff  from  the  coat- sleeve 
of  her  brand-new  husband.  And  at  that 
sight  the  mistress  looked  about  for  a  good 
dry  place  on  the  grass,  and  sat  down  there, 
and  laughed  until  she  cried.  And  when 
she  heard  a  mad  cackling,  and  saw  The- 
ophilus stepping  highly  and  joyously  by 
his  big  wife's  side,  she  went  and  looked 


I  . 


\ 


l! 


i 


li 


i 


f  M 


124 


THE  GALLANT  THEOPHILUS 


under  the  cart,  and  there  lay  one  of  those 
immense  milk-white  eggs  the  black  Span- 
ish is  famous  for ;  and,  with  another  burst 
of  laughter,  the  mistress  said :  "  Theophilus 
must  have  walked  around  that  egg,  for  he 
could  never  step  over  it." 

It  was  probably  her  inky  clothing  that 
first  attracted  the  attention  of  the  little 
widower.  He  could  not,  to  save  his  life, 
grow  a  black  feather  himself,  and  that 
mass  of  blackness  expressed  his  feelings 
perfectly.  Then,  he  found  her  a  sin  ^.le, 
kindly,  domestic  creature  of  excellent 
family,  and — and — well,  winter  was  com- 
ing on,  and  he  could  not  recall  his  little 
ladies,  so  he  made  up  his  mind  to  make 
the  best  of  things,  and  took  to  wife  the 
big,  black,  gentle  thing.  And  she  has 
more  slugs  and  worms  provided  for  her 
than  she  ever  saw  in  her  whole  life  before. 

They  perch  in  the  little  corner  that  has 
been  home  to  him  so  long,  and  he  polices 
all  day,  when  not  at  the  egg- seance,  and 
rises  in  his  pajamas  promptly  at  twelve 
and  three  to  crow,  and  remains  still,  in  his 
mistress's  eye,  a  very  gallant  little  The- 
ophilus. 


I  those 

Span- 

r  burst 

)philus 

for  he 


ig  that 
Q  little 
lis  life, 
d  that 
eelings 
sin ;.  le, 
:cellent 
s  corn- 
is  little 
)  make 
ife  the 
lie  has 
[or  her 
before, 
liat  has 
polices 
ee,  and 
twelve 
[,  in  his 
le  The- 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


'  I 


.-I 


! 


'*i! 


•;: 


\  ' 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


i 


|E  were  a  pair  of  very  little  maids 
when  we  met.  I  was  the  stran- 
ger, and  had  shyly  presented  my- 
self, with  my  books  and  slate,  at 
the  teacher's  desk,  and  she  (the  teacher)  had 
questioned  me  so  kindly  that  I  had  not 
once  put  a  comforting  but  forbidden  fore- 
finger between  my  lips ;  and  then,  after  a 
look  over  all  the  room,  the  teacher  had 
pointed  out  a  desk  at  which  one  girl  was 
already  seated,  and  told  me  to  sit  there  and 
share  the  desk  with  her.  I  obeyed,  and  at 
once  began  to  look  out  of  the  corner  of 
my  eye  at  my  companion.  She  had  curls, 
long  black  curls,  which,  as  a  straight- 
haired  girl,  I  was  bound  to  adore.  I  had 
braids  of  a  length  and  thickness  that 
tempted  every  small  boy  I  knew  to  grab 
them  for  reins,  and  a  fairness  of  skin  that 

127 


f 


> 


128 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


'^11  !■ 


■:1      t 


later  filled  my  dark  little  desk-mate  with 
envy. 

She  was  dressed  much  better  than  I  was, 
but  our  white  aprons  produced  a  seeming 
equality  that  prevented  mortification  and 
wounded  feeling.  One  thing  impressed  me 
deeply :  this  little  girl  was  eating  a  stick 
of  candy.  I  had  seen  many  little  girls  eat 
many  sticks  of  candy,  but  never,  never 
had  I  seen  that  very  ordinary  action  in- 
vested with  such  grace  and  delicacy.  She 
never  crunched ;  one  might  rather  say  she 
nibbled.  She  held  the  stick  lightly  with 
the  tips  of  her  fingers,  and  the  little  finger 
was  kept  well  out  from  the  others,  while 
about  the  lower  end  of  the  candy- stick, 
as  a  protection,  was  carefully  rolled  a  nar- 
row band  of  white  paper,  which  struck 
me  as  being  a  thing  peculiarly  elegant  and 
refined. 

School  had  not  yet  been  called  to  order, 
and  there  seemed  no  earthly  reason  why 
we  should  not  have  spoken  to  each  other 
at  once ;  but  etiquette  is  etiquette,  and  cer- 
tain unwritten  laws  are  nowhere  more 
binding  than  with  little  people.    For  some 


J.  t'-Tf^j^ 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


129 


tiuio  WO  examined  each  other  with  side- 
glances.  Then  she  of  the  black  curls 
drew  a  piece  of  paper  from  a  book,  and 
with  a  pencil  printed  something  with  much 
pursing  of  the  lips  and  leaning  of  the  head 
to  one  side.  Then  she  shoved  the  paper 
toward  me,  and  turned  her  head  away  and 
nibbled  candy. 

I  paused  a  decent  length  of  time,  and 
then  read,  "  E-s-t-h-e-r— me."  After  a  bit 
I  took  the  pencil,  and,  with  much  unne- 
cessary moistening  of  the  lead,  printed 
"  C-a-r-r-i-e— me," 

She  read,  then  put  her  hand  in  her 
pocket,  and  drew  out  a  pearl  knife-handle 
without  a  blade,  and  a  penny.  I  looked 
silently,  and  drew  from  my  pocket  a  broken 
carnelian  ring,  and  held  it  out  on  my 
hand. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  mend  it ! " 

"  Can't,"  I  answered. 

"  Yes,  you  can,"  she  insisted. 

I  shook  my  head 

"Well,  Zac  can;  yes,  he  can.  He  's 
my  brother,  and  he  can  do  'most  any- 
thing." 


i 


il 


I, 

i 

i 


1 


I 


!l 


p 


i 


'. 


n 


if 


11 


i; 


130 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


Just  then  school  was  called  to  order, 
and  lo !  we  were  friends. 

At  recess  brother  Zac  was  consulted 
about  the  broken  ring.  He  decided  that  it 
could  be  mended  only  to  look  at ;  but  Essie 
— as  he  called  his  sister — showed  a  disap- 
pointment at  this  so  near  to  tears  that  he 
finally  declared  he  could  mend  the  ring  so 
that  I  could  wear  it,  if  I  would  always 
remember  to  hold  very  still  while  I  had 
it  on. 

Zac  was  older  than  Essie,  and  he  was  a 
manly  little  fellow.  He  did  n't  bully  the 
girls,  but  he  did  fight  the  boys  when  they 
called  him  bad  names.  He  had  big,  lus- 
trous eyes.  I  remember  I  called  them 
"  shiny  "  then,  and  I  told  Essie  he  looked 
like  a  church  picture.  But  she  said: 
"Hush,  don't  tell  him  that,  or  he  '11  be 
mad  at  you ! " 

Then  she  asked  me  if  I  knew  what  a 
cherub  was,  and  I  said  I  thought  not. 
And  she  said,  "You  know  a  Cupid?" 
and  I  said,  "Yes."  "Well,"  she  went  on, 
"a  cherub  is  just  a  pretty  Cupid,  that 
has  n't    grown    any    below    his    wings. 


hli 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


131 


That  's  all  there  is  of  him— a  head  and 
arms,  and  wings.  And  an  old  hy'v  ^aid 
once  that  Zac  was  a  beautiful  choiuu,  .,nd 
he  called  her  an  *old  cat';  and  then  he 
got  punished;  and  he  just  hates  her  now. 
Boys  are  so  queer  I " 

In  the  next  few  days  I  found  the 
beauty  and  dainty  airs  and  graces  of  my 
little  friend  quite  equaled  by  her  kindness 
and  gentleness.  But  I  was  surprised  to  see 
that  Essie  and  Zac  took  no  part  in  the 
games  and  romps  of  the  other  children. 
No  matter  whether  it  was  "  ring-around- 
a-rosy,"  or  "Come,  Philanders,  let  us  be 
a-marchin',"  or  "  puss-in-the-corner,"  or 
even  "  tag,''  they  always  crossed  the  street, 
and  gravely  seated  themselves  on  a  door- 
step, and  looked  on.  Sometimes  they 
silently  played  "  jackstones." 

I  wondered  greatly  at  this  till,  one  day, 
a  girl  asked  me  to  come  and  play  "tag." 
I  started  to  do  so,  but  Essie,  whose  arm 
was  about  my  waist,  released  me  and 
drew  back. 

"  Come,"  I  said ;  "  see  if  you  can  catch 
me ! " 


i 


I 


; 


1 1  p 


)  t- 


■ :? 


132 


A  PKETTY  PLAN 


Sho  shook  hor  licad. 

**  Don't  you  want  to  play  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  said ;  "  but— but— they  won't 
let  me  play  with  them." 

"  Why  !f "  I  asked. 

She  gave  me  one  glance  of  her  swimming 
eyes,  and  turned  her  head  away,  and  I 
saw  her  cheek  and  ear  and  threat  slowly 
turn  to  a  dusky  red.  Then  she  St.id  in  a 
shaking  voice :  "  I  'm  a  Jew." 

Zac  put  his  arm  about  her  neck,  and 
said:  "Father  and  mother  are  Jews, 
Essie." 

At  which  she  shook  back  her  curls, 
and  in  a  steadier  voice  repeated:  "Yes, 
father  and  mother  are  Jews."  Then, 
looking  at  the  children,  she  said  sadly: 
"  They  call  us  cruel  names,  and  sometimes 
they  throw  stones  at  us ;  and,  Carrie,  it  is  n't 
fair,  for  we  did  n't  kill  your  Messiah ;  and 
now — now  you  '11  go  to  them,  won't  you  ? " 

And  I  answered:  "No,  I  won't;  they 
are  wicked  little  beasts ! "  For,  you  see,  1 
was  very  young,  and  my  manners  were 
open  to  criticism. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Essie,  "  I  wish  we  were 


'% 


I 


« 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


133 


sisters ! "  And  I  lioartily  and  ungrammati- 
cally responded :  "  Oh,  mo,  too ! " 

As  "great  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow,'' 
so  from  that  brief  sentence,  "  I  wish  you 
were  my  sister,"  grew  the  plan  that  in- 
volved so  many,  and  brought  two  of  us 
so  near  the  wedding-altar. 

Now  there  were  three  of  us  who  daily 
crossed  the  street  and  sat  on  the  door-step, 
where  we  gravely  discussed  theological 
questions  with  a  solemnity  fully  equaling 
our  ignorance.  They  explained  the  Jews' 
hopeful  expectan<'y  of  attitude  toward 
their  Messiah,  and  one  day  I  asked :  "  Sup- 
pose your  Messiah  should  come,  and  sup- 
pose we  Christians  did  n't  believe  in  him, 
but  said  he  was  bad,  and  took  him  and 
hanged  him,  then  would  your  grandchil- 
dren throw  stones  at  my  grandchildren, 
do  you  think?"— a  question  which  shows 
our  conversation  sometimes  took  a  rather 
speculative  turn. 

They  often  told  me  of  the  goodness  and 
kindness  of  their  father  and  mother ;  and 
once  Zac  said:  "You  see,  Carrie,  some- 
times Essie  gets  kind  of  'shamed  of  being 


r'  t 


f  i 


1 


134 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


I 


I 


U 


I'  J  i! 


a  Jew,  but  when  I  remind  lier  that  mama 
and  papa  are  Jews,  she  is  n't  ashamed  any 
more,  because  they  are  so  good." 

One  noon  they  took  me  to  their  house. 
Their  grandmother  and  grandfather  and 
mother  were  at  home.  I  saw  all  the  pic- 
tures and  bookS)  and  the  big  piano,  on 
which  Essie  herself  could  play  "The 
White  Cockade  "  with  both  hands,  hardly 
ever  stopping  to  find  a  place,  or  anything. 
And  there  was  a  candle-box  full  of  brand- 
new  little  cats,  without  one  open  eye  among 
them ;  but  when  the  old  dog  came  to  look 
at  them,  they  all  spit  and  hissed  like  any- 
thing. And  I  never  saw  so  many  toys 
in  my  life  before.  Still,  when  the  visit 
was  over,  I  found  that  the  two  things 
which  had  impressed  me  most  were  the 
richness  of  the  fruit-cake,  and  the  aston- 
ishing size  of  the  three  grown-ups'  noses. 

On  my  way  back  to  school,  Essie  said, 
for  about  the  twentieth  time:  "If  only 
you  were  my  sister ! "  And  then  suddenly 
she  clasped  her  hands,  and  cried:  "Oh, 
Zac,  Zac ! " 

"  What 's  the  matter  1 "  Zac  asked. 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


135 


"  Oh,  Zac,  when  you  marry,  won't  your 
wife  be  my  sister  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  answered  Zac. 

"Then,  Zac,  dear  Zac,"  begged  Essie, 
"  could  n't  you  marry  Carrie  right  away  ?  " 

Zac  looked  bothered,  and  he  answered 
slowly:  " I— don't— know.  Perhaps-— she 
—don't  want—to  get— married." 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  does !  Don't  you  want  to 
get  married  and  be  my  sister  for  always, 
Carrie  I "  eagerly  demanded  Essie. 

Now,  I  was  a  very  small  woman  indeed, 
yet  instinct  told  me  that  a  proposal  of 
marriage  should  come  from  the  brother, 
not  the  sister,  and  I  remained  silent. 

"  There,"  said  Zac,  "  I  told  you  so !  She 
don't  want  to  marry  us !  "  At  which  Essie 
cried  so  hard  that  her  little  apron  was 
quite  wet. 

I  felt  very  guilty ;  and  Zac,  who  never 
could  bear  to  see  Essie  cry,  turned  to  me 
and  asked:  "Why  don't  you  want  to 
marry,  Carrie  ?   Is  it  because  I  am  a  Jew  ?  " 

He  had  told  me  once  that  Hebrews  kept 
their  hats  on  when  they  were  in  the  syna- 
gogue, and  he  seemed  suddenly  to  think 


!         ' 


( 


1 


I 


P 

I' 
I 


A 


136 


A  PEETTY  PLAN 


t: 

i'! 
h 


I  > 


'It) 


■II 


of  that,  for  he  went  on :  "  Churches  need  n't 
make  any  difference  between  us.  I  '11 
take  my  hat  off  whenever  you  say  *  Now  I 
lay  me '  or  *  Our  Father,'  and  you  need  n't 
keep  our  fast-days,  or  anything.  But  you 
can  have  fruit-cake  every  single  day,  and 
play  with  Essie's  toys,  and  when  snow 
comes,  I  '11  pull  you  both  on  my  sled. 
Essie  loves  you  'most  to  death,  Carrie,  and 
— and— I  like  you  an  awful  lot  myself." 

I  hung  my  head  and  whispered:  "No, 
you  don't." 

"  Cross  my  heart !  "  he  cried  earnestly. 

Still  I  held  back  and  doubtfully  asked : 
"  Do  you  hope  to  die ! " 

"Yes,"  he  replied  boldly.  "Cross  my 
heart,  and  hope  to  die,  if  I  don't  like  you 
an  awful  lot.  So  let 's  be  engaged  now. 
Then  Essie  can  be  happy;  and  next  week 
I  '11  call  and  ask  your  mother  for  you,,  and 
the  week  after  that  we  '11  get  married." 

"Oh,"  cried  Essie,  clapping  her  hands, 
and  tossing  her  lovely  curls.  "  Do — please 
do  say  yes,  Carrie !  Be  engaged  now !  Here 
is  my  blue-bead  ring.  Zac,  give  it  to  her. 
And  oh,  Carrie,  think!  we  '11  be  sisters 


A  PRETTY  PKAN 


137 


until  we  're  grown-up,  big  women;  and 
then  till  we  're  old,  gray  women ;  and  then 
till  we  're  dead  women ! " 

And  so,  while  handsome  little  Zae 
placed  the  blue-bead  engagement- ring  on 
my  finger,  it  was  Essie  and  I  who  gave 
and  took  the  engagement  kiss,  and  it  was 
Essie  and  I  who  walked  hand  in  hand 
back  to  school. 

For  the  next  few  Jays  we  were  very 
happy  little  people.  Essie  seemed  prettiei* 
than  ever,  and  I  loved  her  dearly,  and  she 
was  so  full  of  plans.  Then,  if  I  had  a 
doubt,  she  dispelled  it ;  if  I  found  a  diffi- 
culty, she  smoothed  it  away. 

Once  I  feared  their  parents  might  not 
like  me  in  the  family,  but  Essie  cried  out : 
"Zac,  tell  Carrie  what  papa  said."  And 
Zac  informed  me  that  he  had  told  his  fa- 
ther he  was  going  to  marry  a  Christian,  and 
his  father  had  laughed,  and  nudged  his 
mother  with  his  elbow,  and  then  said: 
"  Zaccheus,  if  you  intend  to  marry  right 
now,  I  won't  object  to  a  Christian ;  but  if 
you  wait  till  you  are  twenty-one  or  so,  I 
shall  expect  you  to  marry  a  Jewess." 


i 


i 


i 


iil 


i 


■J'! 


:i. 


fl    i 


'. 


I! 


1 


138 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


So  that  was  all  right  Then  the  ques- 
tion of  dress  came  up.  It  was  winter,  and 
I  had  no  white  dress. 

"  Wear  a  summer  dress,"  said  Essie. 

"  Can't,"  I  said ;  "  I  'd  take  cold." 

Then  Zac  spoke  up:  "Her  aprons  are 
awful  long.  Why  can't  she  just  wear  a 
clean  white  apron  ?  " 

"And,"  I  added,  "my  Sunday  hair-rib- 
bons." 

"  Yes,  that  will  do,"  decided  Essie.  "  A 
long  white  apron  and  blue  hair-ribbons. 
Mama  will  make  the  cake,  and  that  's  all 
we  '11  need." 

Valentine's  day  came,  and  I  had  a  dear 
little  valentine  from  Zac.  (I  have  it  yet. 
It 's  rather  yellow  now,  but  innocent  affec- 
tion seems  to  exhale  from  it  still.)  An- 
other day  he  risked  punishment  by  rolling 
an  apple  to  me  in  school;  and  when  I 
picked  it  up,  I  found  he  had  cut  out  the 
core,  and  had  put  a  note  in  the  cavity.  I 
was  a  very  practical  youug  person,  and  I 
said  to  Essie :  "  Why  did  he  do  that,  when 
we  will  have  recess  in  a  minute  ?  "  And  she 
answered :  "  Why,  Carrie,  don't  you  know 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


139 


you  have  to  be  courted  before  you  can 
be  mairied ?  And  the  wedding  's  for  next 
week." 

That  game  afternoon  Zac  gravely  wrote 
down  the  name  of  the  street  and  the  num- 
ber of  the  house  where  we  were  living. 
My  mother  was  sewing  there,  as  I  had  been 
careful  to  tell  them  early  in  our  acquain- 
tance. And  then,  when  he  had  folded  the 
paper  up  and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  he 
made  me  a  little  bow,  and  said :  "  I  '11  call 
on  your  mother  on  Monday,  Carrie,  just 
as  soon  as  school  is  out." 

And  Essie  caught  him  about  the  neck 
and  kissed  him ;  but  he  did  n't  like  that, 
and  said  crossly :  "  If  you  do  that  again,  I 
won't  get  married  at  all,  and  you  can  go 
without  a  sister ! " 

And  Essie  said :  "  Why,  Zac ! "  with  two 
big  tears  in  her  pretty  eyes. 

Then  Zac  was  good  again  in  a  moment, 
and  came  and  petted  her ;  but  he  said  boys 
hated  to  be  kissed.  "  Look  at  Carrie,"  he 
cried ;  "  she  never  kisses  me —that 's  why 
I  like  her." 

And  so,  peace  being  made,  Essie  and  I, 


ll: 


140 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


I 


I! 


U 


ft 
f 


H    ii;i 

I  1  ; 

1 

il  ' 

with  arms  about  each  other's  waists,  and 
black  head  leaning  against  brown  head, 
walked  up  and  down,  and  put  finishing 
touches  to  that  pretty  plan  by  which 
we  were  to  become  sisters,  and  never 
dreamed  that  it  was  to  be  our  very  last 
walk  together ;  nor  that  our  merry  part- 
ing, each  of  us  walking  backward  a  long 
way,  and  calling  out  promises  for  to-mor- 
row, and  throwing  kisses,— -the  only  thing 
a  girl  can  throw  properly,— was  to  be  a 
parting  for  life  between  the  two  chubby 
little  maids  who  loved  each  other  so  much 
that  they  planned  to  be  sisters  always. 
Poor  little  plan  that  went  aglee!  Poor 
little  would-be  sisters ! 

I  had  scarcely  entered  the  house  when 
my  mother,  who  was  bonneted,  and  had 
her  shawl  and  bag  beside  her,  called  me 
to  her,  and,  reproaching  me  for  being  so 
late,  began  putting  on  my  best  cloak  and 
hat.  I  could  feel  my  eyes  getting  big  with 
fright.  "Where  are  we  going,  mother?" 
I  asked. 

"  Oh,  away  up- town,  almost  out  of  town, 
to  nurse  a  lady  who  is  sick.    What  is  it 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


141 


about  school  I    I  can't  talk  now ;  it 's  late. 

Your  books  will  be  all  right ;  Mrs.  M , 

here,  will  send  for  them  on  Monday. 
What  are  you  crying  about?  There  will 
be  another  school  to  go  to  when  we  get 
settled  a  bit.  Come,  now ! "  And  taking 
up  her  traveling-bag,  and  catching  me  by 
the  hand,  she  unconsciously  swept  me  out 
of  the  lives  of  my  little  promised  husband 
and  my  almost  sister. 
A  couple  of  months  later  my  mother 

sent  me  back  to  Mrs.  M 's  on  an  errand. 

As  I  was  about  to  start  home,  Mrs.  M 


is  it 


said:  "By  the  way,  Carrie,  the  Monday 
after  you  left  us,  a  little  Jew  boy  came 
here,  and  asked  to  see  your  mother."  I 
gasped,  and  turned  hot  all  over.  She  went 
on :  "  He  was  the  prettiest  boy  I  ever  saw, 
and  made  the  best  bow.  I  asked  him 
what  he  wanted,  but  he  shook  his  head 
and  said  he  had  important  business 
with  your  mother,  alone.  And  he  was  all 
kind  of  knocked  in  a  heap  when  I  told 
him  you  were  both  gone  for  good.  And 
then  he  said :  *  I  don't  know  how  I  '11  tell 
Essie !  '—whoever  Essie    may  be,  and— 


(« 


142 


A  PRETTY  PLAN 


Why,  child,  what  are  you  crying  for  ?  You 
ain't  afraid  of  getting  lost  going  home,  are 
you  ?  No,  I  thought  not.  Well,  good-by ." 
And  I  cried  all  the  way  homo  o\er  the 
pretty  plan  that  had  failed  and  the 
would-be  little  sister  I  had  lost. 


ft 


.!t 


R  'I 


AN  AMATEUR  SANTA  CLAUS 


'^» 


^   V, 


AN  AMATEUR  SANTA  CLAUS 


[WAS  a  very  small  city  woman, 
and  it  was  my  first  Christmas 
in  the  backwoods.  I  was  but 
a  few  months  over  seven  3^ears 
old,  but  I  was  a  very  elderly  young  per- 
son indeed.  The  only  absolutely  child- 
ish thing  about  mo  was  my  perfect,  my 
unshakable   faith   in    Santa  Claus. 

My  mother  had  gone  to  the  distant  city, 
—that  visit,  and  its  nearness  to  Christmas, 
ariusing  not  the  faintest  suspicion  in  my 
mind,- -and  she  had  failed  to  retuiTi  at  the 
expected  time.  I  was  unhappy  where  she 
had  left  me,  and  had  got  permission  to 
visit  Grandma  (courtesy  title  only),  down 
the  road.  But  before  I  reached  the  old 
log  house  my  quilted  red  hood  was  white, 
and  on  my  hot  little  cheeks  were  cold  wet 
spots  wliere  the  snowflakes  had  melted. 
There  was  neither  knocker  nor  bell  nor 

^  145 


1 


1  '^1 

I 


■  1 


•I 


r 


^: 


I 


<;  '« 


146 


AN  AMATEUR  SANTA  CLAUS 


even  knob  on  the  big  door;  but  from  a 
hole  a  leather  string  hung  down,  and  when 
one  pulled  that,  it  lifted  a  big  latch  inside, 
and  one  pushed  the  door  open,  and  en- 
tered, not  a  hall,  or  waiting-room,  or  re- 
ception-room, or  withdrawing- room,  but 
the  house  itself.  It  was  an  unusually 
large  log  house,  but  it  had  only  one  great 
room,  and  above  that  an  attic  room,  which 
was  reached,  or  had  been  reached  in  past 
years,  by  the  help  of  a  stationary  ladder. 

As  I  entered,  the  strange  old  creature  I 
had  come  to  see  was  busily  engaged  in 
plucking  the  feathers  from  a  wild  turkey. 
Before  she  welcomed  me,  however,  her 
piercing  black  eyes  had  noted  the  snow- 
flakes  on  my  hood,  and  she  sharply  asked : 
"  Honey,  did  you  notice  them  sheep  in  the 
second  field  as  you  come  along  ? " 

I  did  not  quite  know  about  "  noticing," 
but  I  diplomatically  replied  that  I  had 
seen  them. 

"  What  were  they  doin'  1 "  she  demanded. 

"Nothing,"  I  answered;  "they  were 
just  standing  still— not  even  eating." 

She  began  pushing  the  basket  of  feathers 


111 


AN  AMATEUR  SANTA  CLAU3 


147 


w 


from  her  as  she  asked  impatiently :  "  IIow 
were  they  staiulin*  ?— you  poor,  ignorant 
little  city  thing!  Were  they  in  a  big 
circle— or  a  knot,  with  their  heads  down, 
and  their  rumps  out'ardi" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  I  hastily  put  in ;  "  their 
heads  were  down  low,  and  they  were  all 
hunched  up,  like." 

"  Oh,  Lord !  then  Luke  and  me  must  go 
out  and  fold  'em,  right  off  now ! " 

Down  went  the  turkey.  The  old  woman 
rose,  called  Luke,  the  stiff,  half -blind  old 
dog,  snoring  in  the  firelight,  and,  without  a 
wrap  of  any  kind,  tramped  off  to  fold  her 
sheep,  in  obedience  to  the  sign  their  posi- 
tion gave  her  of  the  kind  of  storm  that 
was  coming.  With  just  such  faith,  she 
always  kept  a  spider-web  in  a  dark  corner, 
that  the  spider  might  let  her  know  when 
it  was  going  to  rain. 

A  couple  of  hours  later  we  were  prisoners. 
The  whole  world  seemed  one  great  mass 
of  eider-down,  with  our  house  pushed 
down  in  the  middle  of  it. 

The  stage  had  made  its  weekly  trip  the 
day  before— no  chance  of  mother's  coming. 


11 

II 


'I 


I 


t 


148 


AN  AMATEUR  SANTA  CLAUS 


rlj 


!! 


:  1'    ! 


I 


■ill; 


■I'    : 

Ml 


II 


And  Santa  Clausl  Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear! 
He  did  n't  even  know  where  I  was;  and 
if  he  did,  could  BT«n  he  find  his  way  across 
the  great,  wide  stretches  of  the  prairie, 
down  through  the  bottom-lands,  and  up 
into  the  thi.  k  forest,  where  the  clinging 
snow  hid  the  blazed  and  belted  trees  that 
marked  the  way  I  And  this  was  Christmas 
eve !  I  laid  my  head  on  old  Luke's  shoul- 
der, and  sobbed  aloud ;  and  at  each  sob  he 
wriggled  and  whimpered,  and  every  few 
moments  he  solemnly  raised  his  wet  fore 
foot  and  offered  to  shake  hands  with  me 
for  my  comfort. 

And  then  the  tall,  gaunt  woman,  with  a 
string  of  gold  beads  glittering  about  her 
muscular  old  throat,  was  leaning  over  me 
and  saying :  "  What 's  the  matter,  honey  ? 
Be  yer  humsick,  and  cryin'  for  yer  maw  ?  " 
And  I  answered  that  Santa  Claus  could 
not  come  for  me  that  night. 

"  Who  ? "  asked  she. 

"  Santa  Claus,"  I  repeated. 

"Well,  I  be  dog-gorned  if  ever  I  hearn 
of  a  name  like  that.  Be  it  a  man  or  a 
woman,  and  what  kin  to  yer  I" 


AN  AMATEUR  SANTA  CLAUS 


149 


iear! 
and 
cross 
airie, 
d  up 

i  that 
itmas 
houl- 
ob  he 
J  few 
i  fore 
,h  me 

^ith  a 
it  her 
er  me 
Dneyl 
aw  % " 
could 


hearn 
or  a 


And  with  wide,  amazed  eyes,  I  sat  and 
stared  at  the  woman  of  eighty-two  who 
had  never  heard  of  Santa  Clans. 

When  the  kettle  was  hanging  from  the 
crane,  and  several  mathematically  exact 
beds  of  red  coal  had  been  prepared  on  the 
broad  hearth,  on  one  of  which  stood  the 
covered  iron  bread-kettle,  on  another  the 
big  coffee-pot,  and  on  another  a  baby  pot- 
bellied kettle  with  pumpkin  stewing  in 
it,  and  right  in  the  center  of  the  great  fire- 
place the  wild  turkey  swung  slowly  round 
and  round  from  a  worsted  string,  while  a 
tin  beneath  it  caught  the  drippings— then 
for  a  time  Grandma  stopped  her  almost 
endless  tramp  back  and  forth  by  her  big 
spinning-wheel,  and,  seated  in  her  splint- 
bottomed  chair,  she  stood  me  at  her  sharp 
old  knees,  and  demanded  of  me  the  whole 
story  of  "  this  'ere  Santa  Claus  you  've 
been  talkin'  about.  I  thought  Christmas 
was  a  Bible  day,  honey  ?  My  old  man  c'u'd 
read  right  smart,  and  afore  he  was  tuk  he 
used  to  read  outen  the  Bible  much  as  two 
or  three  times  a  year.  But  I  never  hearn 
of  no  Santa  Claus  in  it." 


[p    '.l'^ 

1  i  '-^ . 

-    . 

V 

I 


! 


I  1 


150 


AN  AMATEUR  SANTA  GLAUS 


I  tried  to  explain,  with  the  result  of 
making  her  cry :  "  Oh,  I  see !  he  's  a  sort 
of  a  hant,  not  a  real  man.  Where  do  he 
walk  when  he  's  at  hum?"  Again  I  ex- 
plained. "  Yes,  yes,"  she  said.  "  Snow 
and  ice,  and  pine  and  hemlock,  mostly, 
did  you  say?  That  must  be  up  Canady 
way.  My  old  man  was  in  Canady  just 
before  the  war  in  '12,  and  he  said  it  was 
like  that.  Well,  honey,"  with  a  heavy 
sigh,  "  don't  you  hang  no  stockin'  to-night ; 
for  I  tell  yer  I  've  lived  here,  bottom-land 
and  prairie,  near  sixty  year,  and  I  had  a 
houseful  of  children,  too,  but  Santa  Claus 
never  came  here  once,  and  I  reckon  he 
never  will." 

"  Oh,  Granny,  I  'm  sure  he  came  when 
your  children  were  here,  only  you  did  n't 
know  to  watch  for  him.  I  heard  him 
myself,  last  Christmas  eve,  at  the  back 
window.  I  knew  he  was  there,  because  I 
could  hear  mother  quite  plainly  telling 
him  she  had  one  little  girl,  and  she  had 
at  least  tried  to  be  good." 

To  my  surprise.  Granny  laughed  sud- 
denly, and  then  said  a  long  "  0-h-h ! " 


AN  AMATEUR  SANTA  CLAUS 


151 


Then,  after  a  pause,  she  again  advised  me 
not  to  hang  up  my  stocking;  and  when 
my  eyes  filled  with  tears  again,  she  said: 
"  Santa  Claus  is  more  a  city  hant,  honey, 
and  next  year  he  '11  come  to  yer,  when  yer 
back  hum  again." 

After  I  had  said  my  prayers.  Granny 
went  to  the  door  to  let  Luke  in,  whose 
own  house  was  snowed  up;  and  in  that 
moment  I  flew  to  the  great  fireplace,  and 
hung  one  little  red-and-white  clouded 
stocking  there,  and  scampered  back  to  the 
bedside.  Then  I  stood  on  a  chair,  and 
then  Granny  threw  me  up  to  the  top  of 
the  enormous  feather-bed,  where,  from  a 
deep  trough,  as  it  were,  I  looked  out  at  the 
firelight  playing  over  the  long  strings  of 
red  and  yellow  peppers,  the  pole  full  of 
pumpkin-rings  hung  up  to  dry,  the 
bundles  and  bundles  of  "yarbs"  and 
roots ;  at  the  mahogany-colored  hams,  and, 
in  a  corner  by  the  fireplace,  the  flitches 
of  bacon;  at  the  turkey-wings,  and— 
and— 

Why,  it  was  morning!  I  was  alone. 
I  rushed  for  my  stocking.    For  one  sick- 


: 


'I 


!;>: 


,  •( 


152 


AN  AMATEUR  SANTA  CLAUS 


ening  moment  I  thouglit  it  was  entirely 
empty.  Then  I  thrust  in  my  hand,  and 
down  in  the  toe— oh,  joy !  oh,  joy !  some- 
thing—what! Full  of  wonder,  I  drew  out 
a  necklace  of  three  strands  of  beads  I 
could  not  know  they  were  of  a  kind  fash- 
ionable when  my  mother  had  been  a  child ; 
nor  did  I  notice  that  the  once  rose-pink 
bits  of  ribbon  to  tie  them  with  were  faded 
almost  to  whiteness.  I  only  knew  my 
trusted,  beloved  Santa  Claus  had  come 
away  into  that  backwood  country  for  one 
little  gui.  I  forgot  my  elderly  conduct, 
and  went  cavorting  round  the  room  in  my 
bare  feet  (what  child  ever  caught  cold  on 
Christmas  morning  ?),  waving  my  necklace 
aloft,  while  old  Luke  pranced  stiffly  after 
me,  barking  wildly,  with  all  the  ardor  of 
youth  in  his  eyes,  though  the  pains  of  old 
age  were  in  his  bones.  Then  in  came 
Granny  from  the  barn,  remarking,  at  the 
door :  "  Well,  you-uns  seem  to  be  plumb 
crazy !  "  But  her  face  was  just  one  great 
smile.  While  slie  helped  me  with  my 
braids,  she  confessed  that  Santa  Claus 
was  a  "  mighty  fine  old  hant,"  and  rather 


AN  AMATEUR   SANTA  CLAUS 


153 


I 


sadly  reckoned  she  had  "missed  a  heap 
by  not  knowin'  of  him  afore." 

Later  on  there  was  a  great  "geein'" 
and  "  ha  win' "  heard,  and  four  oxen  came 
plunging  and  stumbling  through  the  snow. 
They  drew  a  slod,  and  on  the  sled  was  a 
chair,  and  in  the  chair  was  my  mother,  at 
last;  and  she  had  seen  feanta  Clans,  and 
he  had  feared  he  might  not  get  to  the  log 
house  she  described,  so,  just  for  once,  he 
allowed  her  to  carry  some  of  his  gifts. 

"  Oh,"  I  cried,  "  but  he  came  his  very 
own  self,  after  all ;  was  n't  he  good  ?  "  And 
Grandma  chuckled  as  she  walked  back 
and  forth  beside  her  spinning-wheel. 

As  an  actress  of  some  experience,  I 
want  to  offer  my  word  of  praise  to  this  old 
amateur,  who,  without  properties,  without 
rehearsal,  and  at  the  age  of  eighty-two, 
had  made  a  first  and  very  successful  ap- 
pearance in  the  role  of  Santa  Claus. 


w 


I 


;  r 


i  i 

t 


I 


(( 


MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


I 


' 


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I 

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1 

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ij 

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66 


MARTY  MANY-THINGS 


)) 


\'i!  was  three  days  before  Chrk! 
mas,   and    all    the    chill,   g' 'vy 
misery  of  the  sky,  the  air,    ii  ^ 
the  gi'imy  city  street  seemr  1 
to  center  in  the  forlorn  little  figure  £   :nd- 

ing  doubtfully  before  No.  138 Street. 

In  the  too  short  skirt,  the  broken  shoes, 
the  shabby  hat  above  the  pale,  pinched 
face,  it  was  easy  to  recognize  at  a  glance 
one  of  Michael  Wolfs  small  friends  of  the 
New  York  streets— one  of  those  weary 
"  little  mothers  "  who,  mere  children  them- 
selves, know  all  the  labor,  anxiety,  and 
care  of  maternity,  without  one  trace  of 
its  joy. 

The  querulous,  piercing  wind  came 
down  the  streets,  forcing  its  way  into 
every  crack  and  crevice  of  the  houses, 
through  every  stocking-bole  and   every 

157 


I 


1.1  -"^i 


I  i 


■\  .;. 


I 


158 


** MARTY  MANY-THINGS^' 


worn  place  in  dress  or  jacket,  until  poor 
Marty  Many-Things  felt  as  if  she  were 
dressed  in  the  kitchen  colander. 

Her  real  name  was  Martha  Jane  Farrell, 
but  she  had  so  much  work  to  do,  so  many 
cares  to  worry  her,  that  a  Sunday-school 
teacher  had  said  once :  "  Poor  child !  you 
are  a  regular  little  Martha— troubled  about 
many  things."  Then  she  told  her  mother 
the  teacher  had  patted  her  head  and  called 
her  "  Marty  Many-Things  " ;  and  after  that 
the  name  stuck  to  her,  as  such  names  are 
apt  to  do.  And  to-day  she  was  indeed 
troubled  about  many  things.  Her  father 
had,  in  her  words,  "  been  put  away  for 
three  months  "  (meaning  he  was  impris- 
oned). Her  mother  was  "on  the  flat  of 
her  back  "  with  "  the  sickness."  For  this 
mysterious  ailment  a  homeopathic  doctor 
had  left  her  a  bottle  of  white  pellets ;  but 
early  in  the  morning  the  marauding 
younger  children  had  found  the  bottle, 
and,  with  tousled  heads  close  together,  had 
amicably  divided  and  devoured  them,  the 
results  being  groans  of  misery  from  Mrs. 
Farrell,  and  slightly  feverish  symptoms  in 


if 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


150 


are 


the  children,  accompanied  by  an  earnest 
desire  for  more  medicine  like  that. 

But  these  things,  bad  as  they  were,  were 
not  so  hard  to  endure  as  was  her  sicken- 
ing anxiety  about  the  intentions  of  Santa 
Claus.  Would  he,  or  would  he  not,  come 
to  her  house?  She  thought  about  him 
day  and  night,  and  had  done  so  for  so  long 
a  time  that  her  poor  little  brain  was 
nearly  turned.  Ever  since  the  first  cheap 
green  trimming  had  appeared  about  the 
shop  windows  in  her  neighborhood,  she 
had  been  praying,  hoping,  fearing.  When 
she  took  her  weary  walks  abroad,  always 
dragging  the  two  children  with  her,— Wil- 
liam Henry  holding  to  her  skirt,  while 
Catharine  Anne  sagged  stolidly  over  one 
poor,  thin  shoulder,— she  would  wander  up 
and  down  the  avenue,  gazing  with  bright, 
eager  eyes  at  the  beauties  of  the  shop 
windows.  Everything  appealed  to  her, 
from  the  jewelers'  trays,  the  splendid  fur 
cloaks,  the  silks  and  laces,  the  books  and 
musical  instruments,  down  to  the  butcher- 
stalls,  deep  in  fresh  sawdust  and  gar- 
landed with  greens;   while  at   the  toy- 


1   1 


It 


'I        111 


■  i-ki 


100 


"MARTY  MANY-THINaS" 


I 

I 

I,  I 


I  '  ii 


1  I 


shops— well,  she  invariably  halted  there  for 
a  rest,  and  putting  one  knee  up  against 
the  window-rail  or  -ledge,  as  the  case  might 
be,  she  slid  Catharine  Anne  down,  turned 
her  around,  wiped  her  bubbly  wet  mouth, 
remarking,  for  perhaps  the  hundredth 
time :  "  Well,  you  are  the  most  hiecupy 
and  slobbery  child  I  ever  saw,  Catharine 
Anne !  But  now  look  at  them  dolls  with 
all  your  might  and  main,  for  they  may  n't 
be  there  next  time  we  come." 

And  Catharine  Anne  would  stare  stol- 
idly in  front  of  her,  drooling,  and  nodding 
her  bare  bald  head,  and  looking,  in  her 
mother's  big  shawl,  like  some  toothless, 
tremulous,  driveling  old  woman  from  an 
almshouse  taking  in  the  city's  sights. 

Meanwhile,  William  Henry  stamped  and 
pointed,  and  always,  always  found  a 
painted  monkey  on  a  stick,  at  which  he 
invariably  pulled  her  skirt,  and  entreated 
her  to  tell  him  if  Santa  Claus  had  monkeys 
on  sticks,  and  what  day  was  Christmas 
day. 

And  sometimes  little  gusts  of  hope  blew 
warm  through  her  young  heart  and  made 


"MAUTY  MANY-THINGS" 


101 


and 
id  a 
he 
sated 
ikeys 
tmas 

blew 
uade 


her  eyes  bright  and  her  cheeks  pink,  and 
she  would  feel  sure  of  the  painted  monkey, 
and  of  a  ball  with  a  rubber  string,  and 
sometimes  she  even  believed  in  the  possi- 
bility of  a  small  china  doll  finding  its  way 
into  the  Farrell  household.  In  those  rare 
moments  of  confident  faith  she  went  so 
far  as  to  declare  the  china  one  should 
surely  be  called  Angelica. 

The  sweetest  moments,  though,  were 
those  precious  ones  when  she  and  some 
other  little  mothers  like  herself  had  got 
their  charges  into  bed,  and  could  meet 
one  another  on  the  dark  stairs,  and,  hud- 
dling close,  with  arms  about  waists,  and 
skirts  turned  up  over  heads  and  shoulders 
to  keep  off  the  cold,  could  chatter  like  so 
many  chilly  magpies. 

They  talked  endlessly  of  Christmas,  de- 
scribing how  they  thought  Santa  Glaus 
looked;  and  it  was  really  surprising  to 
know  by  wh&  ^  a  wonderfully  narrow  chance 
each  one  of  them  had  just  missed  seeing 
the  mysterious  old  man.  Then  they  would 
warm  their  starved  little  hearts  by  playing 
"I  choose,"  each  one  choosing  what  she 


i 


11 


I 


162 


*' MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


I  ■■ 


?;■■ 


would  have  out  of  Santa  Clauses  pack,  if 
sue  could.  And  Marty  Many-Things  al- 
ways began  with  a  monkey  on  a  stick  for 
William  Henry,  and  some  "for-true"  white 
bibs  with  trimming  on  the  edges  for 
Catharine  Anne — which  went  far  to  prove 
that  Marty  was  not  without  a  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things.  And  for  her  mother  a 
bottle  of  cologne,  and  a  new  back-comb, 
and  a  picture  of  a  saint.  And  for  herself 
a  china  doll,  and— only  because  it  was 
playing  "choosing,"  you  know— a  little 
work-box  with  for-true  scissors  and 
thimble,  and  perhaps  a  dish  or  two.  And 
so  on  and  on  until  their  eyes  shone  from 
excitement.  And  poor  little  Marty  Many- 
Things,  in  her  place  at  the  foot  of  the 
family  bed,  among  the  six  lashing  feet  of 
her  mother  and  the  children,  was  prone  to 
dreanr.,  in  feverish  snatches  of  slumber, 
that  she  was  sleeping  in  a  livery- stable. 

At  first  Mrs.  Farrell  had  encouraged 
Marty  to  believe  that  Santa  Claus  would 
visit  them— of  course,  with  the  historic 
proviso  "  if  vou  are  good."  But  then  Mr. 
Farrell  had,  according  to  his  wife,  "laid 


■-^ 


''MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


163 


?k,  if 
s  al- 
ii for 
vhite 
J  for 
irove 
►f  the 
her  a 
5omb, 
erself 
,  was 

little 
and 

And 

from 
^lany- 
>i  the 
eet  of 
)ne  to 
mber, 
ble. 

raged 
would 

storic 

n  Mr. 

"  laid 


I 


about  him  with  too  hea,vy  a  hand,"  and 
had  been  put  away.  And,  somehow,  after 
that  she  had  not  seemed  so  sure  about 
Santa  Clauses  visit,  and  while  all  the  neigh- 
boring children's  hopes  grew  stronger,  day 
by  day  Marty's  grew  fainter,  until  that 
dreadful  morning  when  her  mother,  with 
her  thin  face  turned  to  the  wall,  had  said 
to  her :  "  Martha  Jane,  Santa  Glaus  can't 
get  to  us  here ;  there  's  no  chimbly  for  him 
to  come  down— nothing  but  long  pipe- 
things,  with  tin  caps  on  top  of  'em." 

And  poor  little  Marty  had  laid  Catharine 
Ann  down  on  a  pillow  a  moment,  and  had 
gone  to  the  kitchen,  and  buried  her  face  in 
the  roller-towel,  and  cried  and  cried  till 
she  was  fairly  sick  over  the  disappoint- 
ment and  sorrow  and  shame.  Yes,  shame ; 
for  he  would  visit  every  other  child  in  the 
street,  siie  felt  sure.  And  oh,  poor  little 
William  Henry !  Oh,  what  should  she  ever 
do?  And  then  an  idea  came  to  her,  and 
she  stopped  crying  to  look  at  it  and  turn 
it  over,  and  as  it  seemed  a  good,  sensible 
idea,  she  acted  on  it  at  once. 

First,  putting  on  her  hat  and  unlined 


'^' 


'I 


H 


164 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


4 

'"•I 


.1 


1  f. 
V 


old  jacket,  and  pulling  up  her  stockings 
I  iooth  and  tidy,  she  got  a  sock  of 
Catharine  Anne's,  a  stocking  of  William 
Henry's,  and  one  of  her  own,  and  rolling 
them  neatly  up  as  she  went,  she  descended 
into  the  bleak  and  windy  street,  turning 
toward  the  house  of  Mrs.  Whalley. 

She  was  a  big  woman  with  a  big  temper, 
"who  might  have  been  called  a  common  scold 
had  she  not  been  such  an  uncommon  one. 
She  kept  lodgers,  and  they  called  her  the 
"  Sergeant."  She  had  many  children,  and 
they  called  her  the  "Kicker."  And  in 
spite  of  all  her  scolding  and  storming,  not 
one  of  them  obeyed  or  would  do  the  least 
thing  for  her.  So  many  and  many  a  time 
she  had  sent  little  Marty  Many-Things 
(with  Catharine  Anne  sagging  like  a  bag 
of  meal  over  her  shoulder)  down  to  the 
baker's  shop  for  bread  or  rolls,  and  in  re- 
turn had  given  her— nothing ;  no,  not  ^ven 
thanks.  Many  messages,  too,  had  the 
tired  child  carried.  And  now  in  this 
trouble,  when  the  "  idea "  had  pointed 
toward  Mrs.  Whalley,  Marty  felt  she  had 
a  sort  of  right,  an  earned  right,  to  ask 


> 


1 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


165 


the 


a  small  favor  from  her.  But  when  she 
reached  the  house  her  courage  failed  her. 
She  stood  by  the  ash-barrel,  hei^itating^ 
shivering,  and  was  just  turning  away 
when  she  raised  her  eyes  and  saw  what  a 
splendid  chimney  the  house  had;  then, 
sending  up  one  timid  prayer  to — to— oh,  to 
the  saints,— for  in  that  moment  of  fright 
she  could  not  have  said  the  name  of  any 
saint  that  ever  was  canonized,— she  scram- 
bled up  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell. 

Perhaps  that  frightened  little  prayer  for 
courage  may  be  fluttering  about  still 
among  the  gentle  throng,  trying  to  find 
which  particular  saint  it  belongs  to. 

When  Mrs.  Whalley  threw  open  the 
door,  Mcirty  gasped  before  she  could  speak. 

"  Well  ? "  roared  Mrs.  Whalley.  "  What 
do  you  want?  Don't  stand  there  like  a 
dying  fish! " 

And  Martha  Jane  lifted  her  white  face 
and  frightened  gray  eyes,  and  said :  "  You 
see,  Mrs.  Whalley,  if  you  please,  ma'am,  we 
ain't  got  no  chimbly  at  our  house,  and 
Sarta  Claus  can't  get  down  to  us,  and  so, 
as  you  've  got  a  big  family,  and  plenty  of 


i 


166 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


II 


if. 


chimbly  room,  I  've  brought  round  our 
three  stockings.  Tliey  're  quite  clean,  and 
I  mended  'em  myself— and— and  perhaps 
you  '11  just  let  'em  hang  in  the  room  with 
your  children's  stockings!  I  can  call 
around  for  'em  quite  early  in  the  morning 
—and— and— " 

Her  dry  little  lips  could  not  form  an- 
other word,  for  Mrs.  Whalley  was  swelling 
up  so  visibly  with  rage,  she  seemed  likely 
to  explode  at  any  moment— a  possibility 
too  dreadful  to  await  calmly. 

"  Well,"  she  cried,  "  of  all  the  outrageous, 
brazen  little  beats  I  ever  lieerd  of,  you  're 
the  worst !  You  get  right  out  of  here,  now ! 
I  have  n't  got  nothing  to  give,  and  if  I 
had—" 

"  Oh,"  hurriedly  interrupted  Marty,  "  if 
you  please,  Mrs.  Whalley,  you  did  n't  get 
on  to  what  I  said.  I  did  n't  come  to  beg 
—I  only  ast  you  to  let  our  stockings  hang 
by  your  chimbly ;  Santa  Glaus  will  tend  to 
'em,  if  he  can  only  find  'em." 

"  A->d  I  'd  like  to  tend  to  yon,  you  art- 
ful Kttlo  fraud,  trying  to  pull  the  wool 
eye«  w  th  your  blather  about 


>0Vo 


;  '<* 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


1G7 


Santa  Claus.  Just  as  if  tliero  ever  was 
any—" 

A  sudden  cough  and  a  sharp  exclama- 
tion stopped  her.  They  both  looked  up, 
and  saw  standing  on  the  stairs  Mrs.  Whal- 
ley's  best  lodger,  a  singer  in  one  of  the 
East  Side  theaters.  Her  true  name  was 
Jane  Bruce,  but  on  the  bills  she  was 
"  Mademoiselle  Jeanette  de  Beuse,"  which 
had  been  quickly  rendered  by  the  children 
of  the  street  into  "  Jenny  the  Goose." 

She  stood  with  her  lemon-yellow  hair 
all  a-frizz,  her  pretty  blue  eyes  lined 
about  with  India  ink,  and  her  extravagant 
good  clothes  topped  oft*  with  some  sort 
of  sealskin  jacket— stood  frowning  and 
shaking  her  head  at  Mrs.  Wh alley.  So 
much  Marty  saw ;  then  with  bowed  he  I 
she  left  the  house,  while  her  tears  plas^  I 
down  on  the  rolled-up  stockings  in  jr 
hand. 

Back  in  the  hall  she  had  left,  M'  de 
Beuse  was  giving  Mrs.  Whalley  a  *'  good 
setting  down  "  for  her  cruelty,  and  as  she 
came  to  the  door  to  see  what  dire,  ^t  ion 
Marty  had  taken,  there  were  tears  in  her 


1G8 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


.•i    11 


'  w* 


black-lined  eyes.  She  knew  so  well  the 
hard,  grim,  hopeless  life  led  by  the  little 
mother;  knew  she  had  never  even  seen 
the  pearly  depths  of  the  foxglove  or  the 
morning-glory,  let  alone  the  wee  fairy  folk 
who  live  in  them;  knew  her  pavement- 
weary  feet  had  never  felt  the  delicious 
chill  of  salt-pool  wading,  or  the  warmth 
of  the  fine,  sun-scorched  sand;  and  she 
felc  that  all  the  romance,  mystery,  and 
beauty  of  Marty's  whole  childhood  blos- 
somed out  in  her  sweet  faith  in  Santa 
Claus ;  and  she  resolved  to  help  her,  if  she 
could,  in  her  great  trouble.  And  so,  as 
Marty  crept  slowly  homeward,  there  came 
a  tapping  of  high  heels  behind  her,  a  rustle 
of  silk,  and  a  puff  of  perfume;  and  then 
Jenny  the  Goose  was  beside  her  and  was 
talking  to  her.  But  when  she  invited 
Marly  to  hang  her  stockings  in  her  room, 
Marty  shook  her  head  and  answered: 
"  No,  thank  you,  ma'am ;  't  would  n't  be 
no  use;  Santa  Claus  would  n't  go  near 
'em  there." 

And,  for  some  reason,  Miss  de  Beuse  got 
very  red  in  the  face  as  she  asked  why  he 


i:i 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


1G9 


would  not  come  to  her  room.  But  Marty 
explained  that  he  "  never  went  into  any 
one's  chimblv"  if  there  were  no  children 
to  visit ;  he  did  n't  care  about  big  people. 

And  then  a  thought  came  to  Jenny 
the  Goose  of  a  pale-faced  little  girl  who 
boarded  away  up-town,  who  would  surely 
be  remembered  by  Santa  Claus,  but  who 
would  be  very  lonely  with  only  her  toys, 
and  no  playmate  and  no  mama  to  keep 
her  company,— a  happy  thought,  too,  since 
it  was  for  the  happiness  of  others,— and 
she  said:  "I  've  got  a  little  l^pI— yes, 
that  's  straight;  you  need  n't  stare  so! 
Her  name  is  Ethel  Gladys  Smith.  I  am— 
at  least,  I  was  Mrs.  Smith  before  I  went  on 
the  stage ;  and  I  board  her  out.  But  let 's 
see ;  three  days— yes,  I  can  do  it.  I  '11  send 
for  her,  and  I  '11  let  Santa  Claus  know  she 
is  coming  here,  and— and  you  '11  bi'ing  in 
all  your  stockings  on  Christmas  eve,  and 
you  can  hang  them  up  yourself,  if  you 
want  to,  beside  Ethel's,  right  close  to  the 
open  grate ;  and  the  next  morning  you  can 
come  as  early  as  you  like  and  get  them 
again.     But  I  want  you  to  ask  your  mother 


If 


170 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


n:: 


!'■ 


.  t 


;! 


to  let  you  come  and  play  with  my  little 
girl  while  I  am  at  the  theater,  as  I  dare 
not  leave  her  all  alone.  Do  you  think  you 
can  manage  that  t " 

And  Marty,  who  had  come  to  a  com- 
plete standstill,  amazed  and  doubting, 
hoarsely  whispered:  "Yer — yer  ain't 
playin'  it  on  me,  are  yer,  miss  I  It  ain't 
no  job?" 

"No;  1  mean  every  word,  fair  and 
square.    Does  it  go  !  " 

And  Marty  swallowed  at  the  lump  in 
iier  throat,  and  clasped  her  hands  tightly 
in  her  effort  at  self-control— then  suddenly 
gave  it  all  up,  and  right  there  upon  the 
public  sidewalk  dropped  on  her  sharp 
little  knees,  flung  her  thin  arms  about 
Miss  de  Beuse's  waist,  and  kissed  her  gar- 
ments passionately,  crying  in  a  smothered 
voice :  "  Yes,  'm ;  yes,  'm,  it  goes !  Yes, 
I  '11  bring  the  stockings,  sure,  sure ! " 
-  And  Miss  de  Beuse  picked  her  up,  with 
a  laugh,  and  told  her  to  hurry  home,  or 
she  'd  have  a  crowd  about  them  in  another 
minute. 

How  Marty  Many-Things  lived  through 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


171 


the  next  two  days,  doing  all  her  work  and 
taking  care  of  the  children,  she  herself 
could  not  have  told.  But  after  she  had 
handed  in  the  roll  of  stockings  at  Miss  de 
Beuse's  door,  modestly  leaving  it  to  her 
to  hang  them,  that  Christmas  eve  as  she 
ran  home  she  felt  little  cold,  soft  touches 
on  her  face,  and  she  saw  myriads  of  wee 
white  snowflakes  dancing  like  mad  in  the 
gas-rays,  and  she  laughed  aloud  at  the 
unusual  sight.  When  she  got  home,  she 
proceeded  to  ti^ansform  the  wash-tub  into 
a  bath-tub  by  simply  removing  the  wash- 
boaixi^  -|K>verty  being  very  cunning  in 
such  devices,— and  after  her  bath  she  went 
to  bed,  to  give  her  mother  a  chance  to 
wash  her  dress.  For  was  she  not  to  meet 
and  play  with  Ethel  Gladys  to-morrow? 
l*o-morrow!  Oh,  would  to-morrow  ever 
come?  And  Marty  turned  and  twisted 
and  flung  herself  about  in  bed,  till  Mrs. 
Farrell  was  driven  to  say,  out  of  the  dark- 
ness :  "  Martha  Jane  Farrell,  if  there  was 
more  than  one  Christmas  in  the  year,  there 
would  n't  be  a  whole  bone  left  in  our 
bodies  from  the  yammerin'  of  your  two 


hll 


172 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


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hard  heels !  Be  quiet,  now,  or  put  your 
feet  outside  the  bed  and  kick  I  For  all  I 
know,  Catharine  Anne  may  be  dead  this 
minute  from  your  lashin's  I  " 

But  morning  did  come  at  last,  and  even 
Mrs.  Farrell  gave  vent  to  a  long-drawn 
"  Oh !  "  as  she  looked  out  on  the  beautiful 
white  city,  and  murmured  low,  "  It  is  the 
birthday  of  our  Lord ! "  and  crossed  her- 
self and  said  a  prayer, 

Marty  Many-Things,  with  an  old  pair  of 
her  mother's  stockings  drawn  over  her 
shoes  as  a  protection  from  the  snow, 
waded  through  the  white  depths  to  Mrs. 
Whalley's  house,  and  up  to  Miss  de  Beuse's 


room,  and  then — 


Mrs.  Farrell  was  preparing  the  poor 
breakfast,  when  she  raised  the  knife  from 
the  loaf  she  was  cutting,  and  paused  to 
listen.  Then  she  threw  open  the  door  and 
ran  into  the  hall.  Yes ;  she  heard  the  cry, 
"  Mother !  "  and  then  again,  "  Mother !  " 
and  leaning  over  the  balusters,  she  saw 
far  below  Marty  Many-Things,  with  the 
skirt  of  her  dress  turned  up  in  front,  seem- 
ingly full  of  something.    And  as  she  clam- 


/ 


I :  ^' 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


173 


bered  up  the  stairs,  she  cried  at  intervals, 
"  Mother !  oh,  mother !  "  She  stumbled  in, 
white  with  excitement,  and  nearly  breath- 
less, and,  dropping  her  skirt,  spilled  upon 
the  floor  four  stockings  and  two  socks,  and 
each  and  every  one  of  them  was  as  stiff  as 
a  ramrod,  and  had  humps  and  lumps  all 
over  them,  so  full  they  were  of —what  ? 

Marty  caught  her  mother's  hand  and 
pointed  in  speechless  joy  at  a  protruding 
fiery-red  monkey  on  a  yellow  stick.  And 
then  the  Farrells  m  a  body  descended 
upon  the  gorged  stockings,  and  wild  con- 
fusion reigned.  But  when  Marty  found  a 
doll,  not  a  china  one  the  length  of  her 
finger,  but  a  true  doll,  flexible  in  the  body, 
with  hair  she  could  comb,  and  eyes  that 
slowly  closed  as  you  laid  it  down,  she 
seated  it  gently  in  a  chair,  knelt  down  be- 
fore it,  and  holding  its  stubby  feet  between 
her  chapped  and  reddened  little  hands,  she 
murmured  again  and  again,  "Angelica! 
oh,  Angelica ! "  while  a  very  passion  of 
love  and  tenderness  for  the  beautiful  help- 
less thing  grew  so  big  in  her  heart  that 
from  very  joy  she  burst  into  tears. 


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174 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


Then  Mrs.  Farrell  dragged  them  from 
their  prey,  and  seated  each  one  of  them 
soHdly,  not  to  say  violently,  on  a  chair, 
and  bade  them  eat  their  breakfast,  or 
they  'd  not  have  one  candy-stick  or  orange 
that  blessed  day. 

Next,  a  man  who  was  going  to  "the 
island  "  to  visit  his  brother  called  for  the 
two  picture-papers  and  roll  of  tobacco  that 
Mrs.  Farrell  wished  to  send  to  the  "  put- 
away  "  Mr.  Farrell ;  and  then  it  was  time 
for  Miss  de  Beuse  to  go  to  the  matinee,  and 
Marty  must  go  to  keep  Ethel  company. 
She  wore  the  same  old  clothes,  but  Mrs. 
Farrell  comforted  herself  by  saying  that 
at  least  she  was  whole  and  clean,  from  the 
skin  out. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Marty  Many- 
Things  had  ever  gone  out  to  play  with- 
out dragging  the  children  along,  and  she 
looked  anxiously  at  them  before  starting ; 
but  William  Henry  was  making  the  tor- 
mented red  monkey  dash  madly  up  and 
down  his  stick,  while  the  bright  toy  balloon 
tied  to  her  wrist  was  bringing  a  faint 
smile  across  the  aged  face  of  Catharine 


,*;'i 


to 


i' 


"MARTY  MAXY-THINGS" 


175 


Anne.  And  never  had  Marty  loved  her 
mother  so  dearly  as  she  did  at  that  mo- 
ment, when  she  handed  out  one  of  Cath- 
arine Anne's  flannel  blankets  to  wrap 
about  Angelica,  who  went  along,  of  course 
—Marty  remarking,  as  she  pinned  her  up 
warmly,  "  Snow  weather  's  so  hard  on 
children !  " 

That  was  a  blissful  day.  Ethel  Gladys 
was  a  sickly  little  thing,  but  gentle;  and 
Marty  watched  in  dumb  admiration  while 
the  little  girPs  clever  fingers  made  a  won- 
derful hat  for  Angelica  from  a  few  bits  of 
ribbon  and  wire ;  and  she  put  one  of  her 
bracelets  on  Marty's  arm,  and  they  played 
everything,  nearly.  And  when  it  was 
time  for  Marty  to  go  home— then  came 
the  great  surprise.  Miss  de  Beuse  had 
stopped  on  her  way  from  the  matinee,  and 
made  arrangements  with  Mrs.  Farrell,  and 
she  and  the  children  were  to  come  to  Miss 
de  Beuse's  room  and  stay  with  Ethel  until 
the  theater  was  out  at  night,  and  then 
they  were  all  to  have  a  little  supper  to- 
gether. 

Oh,  that   supper!     Could  Marty   ever 


176 


"MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


I 


■.  i 

I 


I;  ■ 


•(J« 


n  i 


forget  it?  Oysters— yes,  oysters,  and 
plenty  of  them!  and  sandwiches  with 
pinky  and  white  and  dark  meats ;  and  red 
jellies  and  yellow  jellies;  and  little  wee 
cakes ;  and  oh !  one  big  all-over- white  cake 
with  a  wreath  around  it  and  red  berries ; 
and  a  little  bottle  of  wine— for- true,  actual, 
honest  w^ine- with  a  red  ribbon  all  twisted 
about  it.  And  they  laughed ;  and  Miss  de 
Beuse  sang  them  songs;  and  even  Mrs. 
Farrell  herself  sang  "  I  'm  Sitting  on  the 
Stile,  Mary '' ;  and  Marty  and  Ethel  sang  a 
hymn.  And  Miss  de  Beuse  gave  every  one 
a  tiny,  tiny  glass  with  a  thimbleful  of 
wine,  and  they  all  stood  up  and  drank  to 
the  health  of  Santa  Glaus;  and  William 
Henry,  who  had  seen  his  father  doing  some- 
thing like  that,  suddenly  shouted :  "  For 
he  's  a  jolly  good  fellow !  "  ''  - 

And  so  the  party  broke  up,  and  Miss  de 
Beuse,  very  pretty,  stood  at  the  window 
with  her  arm  about  Ethel,  kissing  her  hand 
to  them.  And  they  walked  home  through 
the  snow,  with  the  air  full  of  the  tinkling 
of  sleigh-bells,  and  every  opening  door  lot 
out  laughter  and  song.    And  up  in  the 


vim 


''MARTY  MANY-THINGS" 


177 


sky  the  stars  glittered  far  and  pure  and 
beautiful.  And  Catharine  Anne  sagged 
peacefully  over  her  mother's  shoulder,  and 
William  Henry  stumbled  at  her  left,  while 
Marty  walked  happily  at  her  right,  clasp- 
ing Angelica  closely  to  her  breast.  At  last 
she  sighed :  "  Oh,  mother,  there  ain't  any- 
body in  the  whole  world  as  good  as  Santa 
Claus,  is  there  ?  " 

And  Mrs.  Farrell  said :  "  I  don't  know ; 
I  suppose  not " ;  then  added,  after  a  long 
pause :  "  But  I  do  know  that  angels  don't 
always  have  wings  on  their  backs." 

And  Marty  wondered  who  in  the  world 
her  mother  meant;  but  she  did  not  ask 
—she  was  such  a  happy,  happy  Marty 
Many-Things. 


la 


A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


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A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


jT  was  an  evil  clay,  cold,  bleak, 
and  drear;  and  in  an  npper 
chamber  of  the  building  once 
his  palace,  now  his  prison,  sat 
a  man  who  waited;  and  even  while  he 
waited  patiently  for  the  coming  of  those 
who  were  the  precious  fruit  of  his  loins, 
so  another  waited  for  him— patiently  or 
impatiently  we  may  not  know,  since  he 
who  waited  for  his  children  was  Charles  I, 
King  of  England,  while  he  who  waited  for 
him  was  Death,  king  of  the  world. 

The  evil  day  grew  on  apace.  At  last 
the  waiting  man's  thin  hands  fell  upon  his 
open  Bible,  the  last  faint  spark  of  hope 
faded  from  his  famished  eyes.  And  then  it 
was  he  heard  heavy  steps  upon  the  stairs, 
and  a  quick  exchange  of  rough  greetings 
in  the  corridors.  The  door  was  thrown 
open,  and  a  man-at-arms,  stooping,  placed 


m 


182 


A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


1. 


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■      ^1 


11      ' 


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what  seemed  two  good-sized  bundles  of 
rough,  damp  cloth  upon  the  threshold. 
But  from  the  top  of  one,  from  under  waves 
of  pure  blond  hair,  beamed  a  pair  of  eyes 
wondrously  like  his  own,  while  from  the 
other  peered,  mischievous  and  marmot- 
like, the  tiny,  brown,  laughing  visage  of 
the  queen- mother's  self. 

The  elder  was  Elizabeth,  the  younger 
was  James,  princess  and  prince  of  the 
blood  royal.  When  eager  hands  had 
solved  the  mystery  of  bow  and  tie  and 
buckle,  cloak,  hood,  and  tippet,  they  were 
set  free,  in  a  limited  sense ;  for,  be  it  known, 
these  innocents  were  prisoners,  too,  and 
had  been  held  in  the  north  of  England, 
whence  they  had  traveled,  in  this  bitter 
weather,  to  creep  for  the  last  time  into 
their  father's  arms. 

Circulation  being  restored  to  their 
numbed  limbs,  and  their  bodies  warmed 
and  comforted  with  posset,  the  king  held 
them  together  in  a  close  embrace.  If  his 
tears  washed  their  baby  cheeks,  he  quickly 
kissed  them  dry  again,  lest  they  should 
know  the  bitterness  of  such  tears  as  his. 


! 


A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


183 


^s  of      I       And  SO  he  sat  for  a  little  time  in  a  sort  of 

lold.       »        joyous  misery.    Wee  Elizabeth  lay  on  his 

raves      }         breast,  her  head  back,  her  arms  clasped 

[eyes     {         about  his  neck,  with  rapture  shining  from 

the  her  great  eyes.    The  extraordinary  aft'ec- 

Imot-  tion  existing  between  the  king  and  this 

\q  of  little  daughter  was  well  known  at  court, 

where  it  had  more  than  once  provoked 
the  jealous  wrath  of  the  queen-mother, 
who  had  now,  with  her  two  elder  children, 
found  refuge  at  the  court  of  France. 

Little  James  patted  his  father  with  ap- 
proving hands,  and  covered  his  face  with 
kisses  of  prodigious  sound.  Only  a  little 
time  was  given  entirely  to  welcoming  en- 
dearments ;  then  came  the  curt  reminder 
of  his  guard :  "  The  time  is  short !  " 

Aye,  the  time  was  short !  His  cup  of  life 
was  almost  drained,  and  surely  the  dregs 
were  as  aloes.  The  moment  in  which  he 
knew  himself  to  have  been  sold  for  so 
many  pieces  of  silver  by  those  who  should 
have  stood  by  him— rightly  or  wrongly, 
stood  by  him  to  the  last— could  not  have 
been  so  bitter  as  the  one  in  which,  fate- 
driven,  he  looked  into  those  laughing,  lov- 


/;' 


;  ' 


d  ■ 

■1 


184 


A   LITTLE   IIOYAL   PRINCESS 


ing  oyes,  and  with  his  own  words  destroyed 
their  babyhood  foi'ever. 

But  weary,  worn,  and  sorrow-stricken, 
in  answer  to  that  hint,  "  The  time  is 
sliort ! "  he  placed  his  little  visitors  at 
either  knee,  and  gravely  ho  addressed 
them— instructing,  cautioning,  advising, 
on  strangely  serious  questions  to  bring  to 
the  attention  of  these  poor  mites— ques- 
tions touching  on  religion,  the  rights  of 
succession,  and  the  like.  Unhappy  little 
children !  When  they  should  have  heard 
and  been  taught  only  the  tales  and  games 
of  childhood,  they  heard  the  tale  of  their 
father's  rapidly  approaching,  bloody  death, 
and  were  taught  that  game  in  the  playing 
of  which  their  father  had  lost  his  throne— 
the  game  of  statecraft. 

Little  Prince  James  was  volatile  of  na- 
ture, restless  and  hard  to  hold  to  serious 
application  or  attention.  But  the  sister 
was  thoughtful  beyond  her  years,  and 
adorably  tender-hearted.  She  listened  to 
each  low-spoken  word  with  a  white, 
speechless,  tearless  anguish  that  seemed 
like  to  kill  her. 


I 


LS 


A  LITTLE   ROYAL   I'HINCEHS 


185 


Ilaviiip;  finally  won  tlio  boy's  atti  ntion, 
tlio  kinjj:  hastened  to  make  him  understand 
his  true  position  and  liis  real  rights,  and 
tlio  riglit  of  his  elder  brother  Charles, 
whom  the  queen  had  taken  with  her  in 
her  iiight,  and  ended  by  receiving  from 
him  a  solemn  I'romise  never,  nercr  to 
allow  any  one  to  make  him  king  while  his 
elder  brother  lived— a  promise  little  James 
made  with  his  chubby  hands  clasped  upon 
his  father's  Bible  and  his  babyish  lips 
pressed  upon  its  sacred  pages.  Then,  be- 
ing released  at  last,  his  attention  quickly 
turned  to  his  Majesty's  great  plumed  hat 
lying  near  by  on  a  chair.  This  hat  he 
swiftly  donned,  almost  extinguishing  his 
bonny  head  in  doing  so,  and  proceeded  to 
assume  many  stately  and  majestic  atti- 
tudes. With  hand  on  hip,  where  hung  an 
imaginary  sword,  and  right  arm  extended, 
he  directed  the  movements  of  various 
bodies  of  men,  represented  by  pieces  of 
furniture.  Poor  little  knight!  while  his 
play  went  on,  others  in  that  room  felt  the 
cold  preserve  of  Death  himself. 

The  kin^'  took  his  suffering  child  into 


. 


186 


A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


'I 


his  arms  again,  rocked  her  upon  his  breast, 
covered  her  pale  face  and  sealed  her  great, 
strained  eyes  with  tender  kisses,  and  filled 
her  ears  with  every  sweet,  foolish,  babyish 
word  of  endearment  they  had  known  in 
other  days,  and  murmured  over  and  over 
again :  "  My  little  maid !  my  bonny  little 
maid !  "  until  at  last  the  stony  stillness  of 
her  face  was  broken,  the  strain  gave  way, 
her  little  form  was  shaken  by  convulsive 
sobs,  and  saving  tears  poured  down  her 


w^an,  white  cheeks. 


A  little  h^ter,  when  they  were  back  again 
in  coat  and  cloak  and  hood  and  tippet, 
she  stood,  pale  and  exhausted,  holding 
tightly  the  king's  last,  most  precious,  gift 
to  her,— his  very  own,  own  Bible,— and 
watched  with  wistful  eyes  her  father  tak- 
ing his  last  farewell,  in  this  world,  of  his 
little  son— saw  the  kisses,  heard  the  prayer 
and  blessing;  and  when  the  boy  was 
placed  upon  his  feet  again^  she  drew 
nearer,  and  the  king  was  stooping  to  take 
her  up,  when  quickly  he  raised  himself 
and  made  this  last  request  of  them. 
Gently,  but  very  seriously,  he  asked  them 


f        « 


( 


A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


187 


/ 


/ 


^ 


not  to  speak  much  of  what  had  taken  place 
during  this  their  last  interview ;  indeed,  he 
would  prefer  they  should  not  speak  of  it  at 
all.  And  then  Elizabeth  made  her  strange 
reply,  unheeded  then,  but  later  on  recalled, 
repeated,  and  remembered  for  many  a  year. 
Clutching  his  hand  tightly  in  one  of  hers, 
while  with  the  other  she  held  the  Bible  to 
her  breast,  and  looking  straight  into  his 
eyes,  she  said : 

"  Sire,  I  '11  speak  no  more !  " 

The  door  was  flung  open.  The  men 
waited  but  impatiently— a  monarch  so  near 
his  death  was  not  worth  patient  service. 
And  for  the  last  time  Charles  took  his 
darling  in  his  arms,— his  comfort,  as  he  had 
often  called  her,— and  held  her  close,  and 
laid  his  white, worn,  sorrowing  face  on  hers, 
and  suffered— only  God  and  himself  could 
know  how  terribly.  As  she  passed  her 
little  arm  about  his  neck,  her  hand  slipped 
beneath  his  heavy,  falling  curls  and  came 
in  contact  with  his  smooth,  strong  throat. 
At  that  touch  there  must  have  flashed 
upon  her  a  picture  of  the  coming  horror, 
for  she  gave  a  sudden,  gasping  cry,  and 


188 


A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


tii 


Si 


■'ii 


lay  unconscious,  white  and  still.  And  so 
they  parted.  The  doomed  man  stood  in 
silence,  and  saw  them  carry  his  little  ones 
away;  but  when  the  men-at-arms  bore 
Princess  Elizabeth  down  the  stairs,  with 
trembling  lips  he  murmured :  "  My  little 
maid !  my  honny  little  maid ! "  and  her 
wee  white  face,  lying  against  the  rough 
leather  jerkin,  looked  like  a  snowdrop 
resting  there. 

All  through  the  long  black  night  the 
children  traveled  north,  and  without  con- 
solation or  comfort;  for  there  was  no 
woman  with  them  in  whose  pitying  breast 
they  might  have  hidden  their  stricken 
little  faces. 

There  were  short  pauses,  for  food  and 
change  of  horses  only,  all  the  next  dreary 
day ;  and  yet,  ere  the  next  night  had  closed 
down  upon  them— so  much  faster  can  a 
horseman  travel  than  a  coach— they  knew 
the  awful  truth.  Back  there  in  sullen, 
grimy  London,  the  waiting  was  all  over. 
Charles  had  obeyed  the  summoning  fin- 
ger and  bent  the  knee  to  Death.  As  king 
he  may  have  been  weak,  obstinate,  deter- 


A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


189 


,..■    i. 


i 


mined  only  at  the  wrong  time,  but  as  a  man 
he  shone  as  an  example  for  his  country  and 
his  eOcii't— a  faithful  husband,  an  adoring 
father,  a  generous,  loving,  if  too  trusting, 
friend.  But  we  have  naught  more  to  do 
with  him,  since  all  the  world  knows  what 
came  to  pass  upon  that  last  dreary  Jan- 
uary day  in  1649. 

"It  was  a  trying  journey,"  said  one 
who  shared  it.  "  The  weather  was  hard 
and  rough.  The  roads  were  worse  than 
the  weather,  while  worst  of  all  was  it  to 
watch  those  two  poor  bairns  shivering 
and  sobbing  in  each  other's  arms.  I  've 
no  great  love  for  the  Stuart  blood,  but  I 
was  glad  to  see  those  orphans  safely 
housed  after  that  heavy  journey." 

If  a  man,  healthy  and  hearty,  found  it 
a  heavy  journey,  what  must  it  have  been 
to  those  delicate  little  curled  darlings  of 
the  court,  with  grief  and  terror  added  to 
physical  discomfort  ? 

The  next  day  after  their  return  people 
first  noticed  something  odd  in  the  de- 
meanor of  the  princess.  When  the  lady 
wife  of  their  keeper  came  to  see  the  chil- 


iiij 


190 


A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


it 

■J 


;  .1 


il 


I- 1 


ri 
m 


rl 


dren,  Prince  James  greeted  her  as  usual, 
while  the  princess  rose  and  made  her  grave 
obeisance,  but  spoke  no  word  of  greeting. 
Solemn  little  mite !  The  greatest  painter 
of  his  day  has  left  your  pictured  loveliness 
for  us  to  gaze  at.  Such  a  little  maid,  in 
long  gown  of  stiff  flowered  brocade ;  a  waist 
cut  square  at  the  neck,  a  tiny  stomacher,  a 
string  of  pearls  about  the  soft  baby  throat, 
a  small  lace  cap  tied  firm  and  close,  but 
with  waves  of  hair  tumbling  from  beneath 
it;  and  ah!  the  eyes— the  sweet,  heart- 
breaking, pathetic  eyes !  Thus  she  looked 
when  standing  mute  before  her  keeper's 
wife. 

The  interview  soon  ended,  but  ere  long 
those  who  had  charge  of  the  children  re- 
ported that  the  Princess  Elizabeth  was 
refusing  steadily  to  eat.  There  was  then 
another  state  visit,  and  when  requests 
proved  useless,  a  threat  was  made  that 
food  should  be  forced  upon  her.  At  this 
the  blood  rose  red  in  her  mutinous  baby 
face,  but  she  remained  silent.  Only,  when 
her  porringer  was  placed  before  her,  she 
silently  ate  a  portion  of  its  contents.  But 
ever  and  always  she  was  silent. 


p*" 


A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


101 


Those  who  were  placed  to  watch  related 
that  when  the  little  James,  in  his  romps 
and  plays,  would  suddenly  burst  into  vio- 
lent weeping,  and  rush  to  his  sister  and 
tell  her  how  he  wanted  mama  or  his  fa- 
ther, she  would  put  her  little  arms  about 
him  and  kiss  him  many  times,  and  smooth 
his  brow,  and  croon  over  him,  but  never 
speak ;  and  by  and  by  he  would  run  away, 
comforted.  At  night,  in  their  little  gowns, 
she  drew  him  down  beside  her,  and  they 
knelt  hand  in  hand;  but  while  James 
made  his  little  prayer  aloud,  Elizabeth 
never  spoke. 

Sometimes  she  was  .« eized  with  a  mortal 
pallor  and  strange  shiverings;  but  she 
made  no  plaint  nor  moan.  Again,  her 
cheeks  were  scarlet  as  with  burning  fever, 
and  her  eyes  bright  and  hot-looking ;  and 
though,  when  the  hour  of  their  serving 
came,  she  drank  ravenously,  not  one  word 
would  she  speak  to  obtain  aught  to  quench 
her  burning  thirst  before  the  regular  hour. 
When  little  James  was  froward  and  got 
himself  a  reprimand,  he  would  fling  away 
to  Elizabeth,  and  she  would  cosset  him 
and  in  her  speechless  ^ay  would  soothe 


102 


A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


s  'I 


1 


and  quiet  him.  But  those  who  served 
them  became  filled  with  fear  of  her.  They 
said  she  was  "  uncanny."  Some  said  she 
"  communed  with  the  dead."  But  one  old 
woman  who  came  to  peep  at  her  made 
answer:  "Oh,  can  you  no  see  the  poor 
bairn  just  eats  her  heart  and  drinks  her 
tears  ? " 

A  doctor  had  been  summoned,  for  the 
people  who  held  the  children  were  in  no 
wise  cruel  to  them.  His  coming  was  late 
in  the  afternoon,  and  some  time  was  given 
to  courteous  greeting  and  explanation, 
and  then  he  was  led  to  that  portion  of  the 
buildWg  where  the  little  prisoners  were 
lodged. 

As  they  approached,  a  woman  came 
flying  down  the  corridors.  She  was  pale, 
and  cried  excitedly :  "Oh,  come !  Pri- 
thee, come ! " 

As  they  hurriedly  entered  the  room, 
they  first  saw  Prince  James  standing,  with 
convulsed  face  and  streaming  eyes,  sob- 
bing: "  Now  she  won't  kiss  me.  This  long, 
long  time  she  has  n't  played.  Now  she 
won't  kiss  me-^she  won't !  " 


h 


A   LITTLE   ROYAL   PRINCESS 


193 


Poor  little  lad !  No  one  noticed  him  or 
his  grief  just  then.  They  rushed  toward 
the  chair  which  stood  with  its  back  to 
them,  and  in  it  they  found  the  Princess 
Elizabeth.  The  window  she  faced  was 
high,  and  she  had  placed  a  large  book  and 
a  pair  of  cushions  in  the  chair  to  raise  her 
up,  that  she  might  look  from  the  window. 
Thus  she  sat  upon  a  sort  of  throne.  Upon 
her  silken  lap  lay  open  the  precious  gift  of 
her  adored  father,  the  worn  old  Bible,  and 
her  waxen,  tiny  hand  lay  on  the  printed 
page.  Her  right  elbow  leaned  on  the  table 
at  her  side,  and  her  dimpled  chin  rested  in 
her  hando  Her  fair,  blond  hair  fell  on  her 
shoulders,  and  her  great  brown  eyes  looked 
straight  into  the  flaming  glory  of  the  sun- 
set sky. 

In  stately  silence  she  had  given  audi- 
ence to  Death.  Not  even  his  terrifying 
presence  could  make  her  break  her  prom- 
ise to  her  father :  "  Sire,  I  '11  speak  no 
more !  " 

So  she  passed,  without  a  father's  kiss, 
without  a  mother's  breast  to  pillow  her 
dying  head  upon,  without  even  the  famil- 

13 


104 


A  LITTLE  ROYAL  PRINCESS 


iar  sound  of  her  baby  brother's  laughter 
in  her  ears. 

So  she  passed— on  weary,  though  pure, 
unsuUied  little  feet— bravely,  calmly, 
gravely  passed  through  the  open  door. 
A  little  royal  princess  of  England.  God 
rest  her  soul! 


iter 


are, 

aly, 

3or. 

>0(1 


THE  PRINCESS  PORCELAIN 


THE  PRINCESS  PORCELAIN 


In  joining  contrasts  lieth  lovo's  delight 

E  had  always  been  interested  in 
the  frail  little  thing.  They  were 
in  the  same  row— the  outer  one 
—of  the  same  oval  bed,  that 
was  crowded  with  fellow-pansies,  and  he 
was  quick  to  notice  that  by  the  gardener's 
carelessness  the  space  between  himself 
and  his  right-hand  neighbor  was  wider 
than  it  should  have  been — a  fact  that  an- 
noyed him  even  then,  and  later  on  became 
a  source  of  real  distress  in  his  otherwise 
quiet  life. 

This  little  right-hand  neighbor  seemed 
to  attract  by  her  very  weakness  and  slow- 
ness of  growth.  He  came,  himself,  of  a 
Dutch  strain,  and  showed  it  in  his  sturdy 
growth  of  stem,  and  the  body  and  velvet 
of  his  blossom.    "  King  of  the  Blacks,"  he 

"  197 


108 


THE  PRINCESS  PORCELAIN 


was  called,  and  really  he  deserved  his 
name— though  one  intensely  dark  purple 
fellow  who  had  been  called  "black"  the 
summer  before  remarked,  somewhat  ma- 
liciously, that  the  title  of  "King  of  the 
Blacks"  would  never  pay  Jiim  for  going 
through  life  with  a  pinhead  orange  dot  for 
an  eye— the  purple  one  having  himself 
a  very  large  and  beautiful  golden- yellow 
eye  with  dark  rays. 

The  King  used  sometimes  to  fear  the 
little  maid  at  his  side  would  never  reach 
maturity.  If  the  sun  was  very  strong  she 
shrank  beneath  the  heat.  If  the  rain  fell 
she  would  sometimes  lie  prostrate.  And 
those  were  the  times  when  the  distance 
between  them  distressed  him,  for,  as  he 
often  told  her,  he  could  and  would  have 
supported  her,  and  at  least  partly  sheltered 
her  with  his  broader  leaves ;  but  as  it  was 
he  could  only  help  her  with  his  advice— 
which,  for  a  wonder,  she  gladly  followed ; 
and  when  she  at  last  formed  her  flower- 
buds,  if  a  shower  was  imminent,  he 
would  hurriedly  warn  her  to  turn  those 
delicate  buds  downward,  that  the  water 


THE  PRINCESS  PORCELAIN 


100 


might  run  off,  and  so  savo  tho  tondorly 
folded  petals  within  from  watery  ruin. 

Up  to  that  time  his  feeling  for  her  had 
been  simply  the  tender  affection  one  is  apt 
to  feel  for  the  creature  we  help  or  pi  tect, 
and  he  had  often  looked  back  with  a  bold, 
admiring  orange  eye  at  the  many  smiling, 
little,  mottled,  banded  pansies,  who  had 
not  hesitated  one  moment  to  nod  at  him — 
for  they  are  a  generally  coquettish  tribe. 
But  one  warm,  still  May  morning,  all  this 
was  changed  for  the  King  of  the  Blacks ; 
for  there  stood  his  slow-growing,  frail 
neighbor,  holding  up  to  his  startled  gaze 
the  sweetest,  tenderest,  truest  little  face 
in  all  Pansydom. 

She  was  not  brilliant,  nor  velvet- 
blotched,  nor  yet  banded;  just  a  lovely 
porcelain  blue  of  perfectly  even  tint,  with- 
out markings  of  any  kind,  the  pure 
color  deepening  into  a  violet  eye,  with  that 
speck  of  gold  in  the  center  that  in  a  pansy 
answers  to  the  pupil  of  a  human  eye. 

Looking  upon  this  innocent  beauty. 
King  of  the  Blacks  was  suddenly  shaken 
by  a  great  passion  of  love  and  longing. 


200 


THE  PRINCESS  PORCELAIN 


n 


i  f 


i 


.i )  ' 


He  realized  in  that  moment  that  she  held 
all  the  sweetness  of  life  for  him,  just  as  he 
saw  the  whole  beauty  of  heaven  reflected  in 
her  small  face.  For  one  moment  he  en- 
joyed the  unalloyed  bliss  of  his  discovery ; 
the  next,  alas !  brought  to  his  knowledge 
some  of  the  tortures  that  invariably  ac- 
company true  love.  Was  he,  then,  jealous  ? 
Of  course.  Who  could  see  that  small, 
fierce  orange  eye  of  his,  and  doubt  his 
jealousy?  And  goodness  knows  he  had 
cause  enough— but  through  no  fault  of 
little  Porcelain  Blue's,  mind  you.  She 
adored  him —was  a- quiver  with  love  from 
the  edge  of  her  topmost  petal  to  the  tips 
of  her  thread-like  roots. 

But  think  of  that  maddening  space  be- 
tween them !  Do  what  they  would,  they 
could  not  bridge  it  over.  They  looked 
and  longed,  and  longed  and  looked,  but 
only  their  sighs  sweetly  mingled.  They 
knew  neither  embrace  nor  kiss. 

The  King  of  the  Blacks  was  a  sturdy 
fellow,  and  jealousy  and  disappointment 
made  his  temper  prickly,  and  sometimes 
he  wished  many  things  of  an  unpleasant 


THE  PRINCESS  PORCELAIN 


201 


I 


nature  upon  the  gardener,  whose  careless- 
ness had  caused  so  much  suffering.  Often 
he  cried  out  for  a  pest  of  mealy  bugs  or 
slugs  or  snails  to  come  upon  his  garden ! 
Once  he  went  so  far  as  to  wish  moles  to 
follow  his  footsteps  beneath  the  lawn ;  but 
seeing  how  he  had  frightened  Porcelain 
Blue,  he  took  that  back,  like  the  Dutch 
gentleman  he  really  was. 

But  it  was  hard  to  see  all  the  winged 
marauders  buzzing  about  his  gentle  little 
sweetheart,  offering  her  the  tattered  com- 
pliments they  had  offered  to  each  floral 
feminine  they  had  met  that  day— to  see 
a  great  bumblebee,  looking  like  a  small 
barrel  with  wings,  go  blundering  so  heavily 
against  her  as  to  nearly  knock  her  down ! 
But  oh,  worst  of  all,  to  see  that  butterfly 
—that  royally  striped,  banded,  powdered, 
idiotic  flirt  masculine!— to  see  him  im- 
pudently clinging  to  shy  little  Porcelain 
Blue's  shoulder,  while  he  stole  the  precious 
nectar  from  the  sweet  flower  lips  that 
cried  vainly  for  the  King  to  drive  him 
away! 

No  wonder  he  grew  ill-tempered.    He 


202 


THE  PRINCESS  PORCELAIN 


was  SO  helpless !  And  what  can  be  more 
maddening  than  helpless  strength?  All 
he  could  do  was  to  urge  Porcelain  Blue 
to  call  up  her  power  of  growing,  and  then 
to  direct  that  growth  toward  him,  while 
he  cheered  her  up  by  calling  her  attention 
to  the  extra  long  arm  he  was  forcing  for- 
ward as  rapidly  as  possible  toward  her— 
knowing  well  that  the  lady  mistress  of 
them  all  would  much  prefer  his  black, 
velvety  blossoms  to  such  a  growth  of  leaf 
and  stem ;  but,  true  lover  that  he  was,  the 
interests  of  his  beloved  came  first  with 
him. 

Then,  too,  the  King  of  the  Blacks  had 
much  to  endure  from  those  about  him. 
He  had  never  concealed  either  his  love  or 
his  distress,  and  there  was  much  merri- 
ment at  his  expense  among  the  flowers  of 
his  own  bed,  and  the  insects  that  daily 
visited  them.  The  tall,  blond  pansy  on 
his  left— a  white,  satiny  creature,  blue- 
edged  and  blue-eyed—was  so  annoyed  at 
his  attentions  to  that  little  half -developed 
"  chit "  on  his  right  that  she  deliberately 
twisted  her  neck  in  the  most  painful  man- 


1' 


THE  PRINCESS  PORCELAIN 


203 


ner,  that  slie  might  turn  her  face  clear 
away  and  so  spite  him ;  but  he  never  even 
knew  it.  The  other  tpansies  were  so  close 
to  one  another  that  they  smiled  and 
flirted,  and  put  their  bonny  faces  up  and 
kissed  each  other  gaily  in  the  full  sunlight 
and  then  laughed  over  their  shoulders  at 
the  King,  who,  black  in  the  face  i.rom 
anger,  was  sure  to  be  watching  the  cor- 
seted, slim-waisted  wasps  hovering  about 
little  Blue.  He  knew  the  visits  of  the 
ants  were  particularly  unpleasant  to  her; 
they  scratched  her  arms  and  shoulders  so, 
though  they  were  very  gallant  and  com- 
plimentary, and  stroked  her  face  very 
gently  with  their  wiry,  black  fingers.  In 
fact,  the  pretty,  kindly  ladybugs  were, 
with  one  exception,  the  only  visitors  little 
Blue  really  welcomed— the  exception  be- 
ing a  big  red-breasted  robin,  whose  quick, 
bright  eyes  and  sharp  bill  kept  all  worms 
beyond  frightening  distance. 


One  perfect  morning,  when  all  the  world 
seemed  made  for  love,  the  King  of  the 
Blacks  felt  his  heart  was  breaking.    Little 


204 


THE  PRINCESS  PORCELAIN 


Porcelain  Blue  drooped  and  hung  her  head 
so  sadly,  while  all  the  others  were  fairly 
asway  with  laughter.  And  just  then,  warm 
and  sweet  and  strong,  the  West  Wind 
came  blowing— the  romping,  teasing, 
rowdy  West  Wind.  Many  a  time  had  he 
chucked  the  little  one  under  her  chin 
and  sent  her  petals  into  a  wild  blue 
flutter ;  and  now  he  paused  a  moment,  dis- 
turbed at  this  sadness.  Sadness  in  the 
path  of  the  West  Wind  ?  Oh,  no ;  he  would 
not  tolerate  that  I  So  back  he  drew  a 
space,  gathered  himself  together,  and  then 
made  a  laughing  rush  upon  the  lovers, 
flinging  with  tender  force  young  Porcelain 
Blue  full  into  the  eager  and  clinging  arms 
of  the  King  of  the  Blacks.  Then,  mis- 
chievously bu  nping  their  pretty  faces  to- 
gether he,  with  rustling,  fluttering,  and 
waving,  went  on  his  merry  way,  leaving 
them  to  learn  in  peace  the  sweetness  of 
the  flower  kiss  they  had  dreamed  of  in 
bud  beneath  the  stars,  and  had  longed  for 
in  full  blossom  under  the  blazing  sun. 
The  work  of  the  West  Wind  was  done,  and 
was  well  done.    Porcelain  Blue  was  so  en- 


'- ' 


THE  PRINCESS  PORCELAIN 


205 


1 


\ 


tangled  in  the  strong  arms  of  the  King 
that  she  remained  there ;  and  if  ho  found 
his  heaven  in  her  sweet  face,  she  found 
hers  in  his  gentle  strength ;  and  so  happily 
they  lived  their  little  space,  and  knew  only 
joy  unalloyed. 

Oae  early  summer  day  the  following 
year,  the  mistress  stood  looking  down 
with  puzzled  eyes  upon  a  stranger  in  her 
great  bed  of  saucy,  wide-eyed  beauties,  in 
all  their  satiny,  vr/' /ety  gorgeousness. 
She  knew  them  all  by  name.  There  were 
Kings  This  and  Queens  That,  and  War- 
riors So-and-So,  and  French-stained  and 
German-blotched,  and  Somebody's  Royal 
Collection.  But  where  did  this  stranger 
come  from,  here  in  the  outer  row  of  the 
big  oval  bed  ! 

Down  on  his  knees,  the  gardener  expa- 
tiated on  the  perfection  of  form  and  the 
firmness  of  texture  to  be  found  in  this  beau- 
tiful nameless  blossom,  that  was  upheld  so 
firmly  by  its  sturdy  stem. 

"Pure  porcelain-blue  markings,  that 
give  it   an  almost  human  smile,''  mur- 


^ 


\ 


206 


^ 


THE  PRINCESS  PORCELAIN 


mured  the  lady ;  "  the  markings  of  black- 
est velvet,  and  that  great  red-orange  eye. 
Where  have  I  seen  that  peculiar  eye,  and 
where  that  pure,  even  tint  of  blue! 
Why—" 

And  at  the  same  moment  the  gardener 
struck  his  earth-stained  hands  together, 
exclaiming:  "The  King  of  the  Blacks, 
ma'am ! "  while  his  mistress  cried :  "  Por- 
celain Blue ! "  and  the  gardener  finished : 
"It  's  the  hoffspring  of  them  two  plants, 
ma'am,  as  sure  as  you  're  alive;  and  she 
'as  no  name,  poor  thing !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  has,"  smiled  his  mistress. 
"  She  is  of  royal  parentage,  and  beautiful, 
and  she  is  called  the  'Princess  Porce- 
lain ' " ;  and  to  herself  she  whispered :  "  Ah, 
love  never  dies!  That  is  proved  by  the 
existence  here  of  Princess  Porcelain." 


li' 


THE  HERMITS 


f 

?■ 


THE  HERMITS 


4 


IE  was  a  slender,  serious,  dark- 
eyed  boy,  and  my  close  friend. 
I  called  him  "  Hal,"  instinc- 
tively feeling  what  a  misfit 
was  the  name  Harry,  by  which  his  family 
called  him.  I  was  proud  of  being  his 
chum,  not  only  because  he  was  a  boy,  but 
because  he  was  two  or  three  years  my 
elder,  and  so,  of  course,  was  two  or  three 
years  the  wiser. 

He  was  no  girl-boy.  He  raced,  played 
ball  and  marbles,  ran  away  and  went  in 
swimming,  and  took  his  thrashing  for  it, 
just  as  other  boys  did ;  but  he  was  gentler 
than  they— he  was  imaginative  and 
thoughtful. 

We  were  the  only  children  living  in  that 
direct  neighborhood,  which  was  a  very 
retired  one,  so  that  our  companionship 

209 


210 


THE  HERMITS 


s     I 


p\ 


seemed  the  natural  outcome  of  the  situa- 
tion. We  were  both  "booky,"  we  were 
both  Sunday-school  enthusiasts,  and  he 
was  the  son  of  an  intensely  religious 
mother— a  God-loving  woman,  with  whom 
prayer  was  a  joy,  not  a  duty ;  who  praised 
her  Maker  because  he  had  made  her,  and 
in  his  own  image;  a  woman  who  under 
a  great  blow  and  loss  had  actually  lifted 
a  smiling  face  and  cried  triumphantly: 
"  *  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth '  I 
Whom  he  loveth— think  of  that !  And  I, 
the  humblest  of  all  this  whole  cityful  of 
people,  to  be  chastened  by  his  hand!  I 
am  unworthy ! " 

In  this  neighborhood  the  city  had  been 
altering  the  grade  of  one  of  the  streets, 
and  so  had  left  on  one  side,  as  a  high  bank 
of  clay,  three  unimproved  building-lots. 
The  moment  my  marauding  eye  fell  upon 
that  bank,  I  cried :  "  Oh,  Hal,  if  only  there 
was  a  hole  in  it ! '' 

And  he  frowned  and  said:  "A  hole! 
What  good  would  that  be  ? " 

"  Why ! "  I  sputtered  excitedly,  "  if  the 
hole  was  big  enough,  we  could  crawl  into 


THE  HERMITS 


211 


it,  could  n't  we!  And  it  would  bo  caves 
and  grottoes;  and  we  could  be  fairies,  or 
Robinson  Crusoes,  or  hernits,  or  robbers, 


w 


or— 

But  Hal,  who  was  an  honest-minded  boy, 
interrupted  me  with  decision:  "Hermits, 
Carrie.  We  'd  be  hermits,  and  read  the 
Bible  there,  and  eat  dates— if  they  have 
them  at  the  grocery !  Let 's  go  see ;  I  've 
got  a  penny." 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  there  's  no  hole  yet ! " 

And  Hal  answered  calmly:  "Not  now 
there  is  n't,  but  there  's  going  to  be ;  we  '11 
dig  it  right  away." 

Oh,  that  hole !  For  days  I  walked  like 
an  ancient  crone  stone-stiff  with  rheu- 
matism. Hal  toiled  manfully,  desperately, 
with  a  small  fire-shovel,  minus  handle. 
But  I,  alas!  for  picking,  digging,  shovel- 
ing, had  no  better  tools  than  a  kitchen 
spoon  and  an  old  tin  biscuit-cutter. 
Never  would  that  hole  have  been  larger 
than  the  inside  of  a  big  pail  but  for  the 
aid  of  a  good-natured  Irish  laborer  who 
one  day  sat  at  the  foot  of  "our  cliff,"  as 
we  called  it,  to  eat  his  noonday  meal. 


212 


THE  IlEUMITS 


'1  -.   I 


Ilis  great  shovel  di'ow  us  like  a  magnet, 
and  soon  wo  were  asking  aid. 

"  What  do  yez  be  wantin'  a  hole  dug  for, 
then!"  he  mumbled,  with  a  half-slice  of 
bread  an  inch  thick  in  one  cheek,  and  a 
chunk  of  corned  beef  on  the  blade  of  his 
knife,  waiting  at  tlio  very  edge  of  his  lips 
for  the  earliest  possible  opening  for  itself. 

"  It  's  to  be  caves,  and  we  're  to  be  her- 
mits,'' said  I. 

"  What 's  thim  ? "  asked  our  friend. 

"  Men,"  said  Hal,  "  who  don't  wear  much 
clothing,  and  who  sit  in  caves  and  read 
the  Bible  and  eat  dates  and  think." 

"  Glory  be ! "  exclaimed  the  astonished 
hearer.  "  They  must  be  dumbed  fools  in- 
tirely.  Sure,  don't  they  know  a  man  can 
read  his  Bible  wherever  he  likes,  and  keep 
all  his  clothes  on  if  he  plaises?  But 
come,  now,  and  we  '11  see  to  this  hole." 
And  in  a  few  minutes,  with  mighty  arms 
and  immense  shovel  obeying  his  kindly 
will,  with  throbbing  hearts  we  saw  our 
cave  growing,  growing,  until,  oh,  joy !  we 
knew  we  could  crawl  into  it.  Then  sud- 
denly the  work  stopped. 


I 


} 


THE  IIEUMIT8 


213 


^hig  for, 

-slice  of 

,  and  ft 

0  of  his 
iiis  lips 

)!'  itself, 
be  her- 

d. 

V  much 

d  read 

nished 
•ols  in- 
in  can 

1  keep 

But 
hole/' 
arms 
indly 
''  our 
l  we 
sud- 


"  Oh,  please,  sir,  won't  you  make  it  go  a 
little  deeper  in  f  ^  pleaded  Hal. 

But  our  friend  answered  profanely  that 
he  would  not ;  and  then  lie  hammered  us 
amicably  on  our  heads,  called  us  a  "  pair 
of  gossoons,"  and  added  tha-  very  likely 
the  "whole  dumbed  thing''  would  cave  in 
on  us  if  we  did  n't  take  care— a  prognosti- 
cation that  troubled  us  not  one  bit. 

As  hermits  we  retired  from  the  world 
at  once— that  is,  we  retired  as  far  as  the 
peculiarities  of  the  cave  would  permit  us 
to.  Our  four  legs  were,  unfortunately, 
Tery  palpably  still  in  the  world.  But  as 
we  sat  well  back  in  the  hole,  our  bodies 
were  quite  out  of  sight,  and,  as  Hal  de- 
clared, we  were  ever*  so  much  better  off 
than  was  the  ostrich,  with  only  its  head 
hidden. 

And  as  we  sat  side  by  side,  high  up  in 
the  face  of  the  bank,  we  had  a  clear,  far 
view  of  the  tender  blue  of  the  lake,  where 
it  gently,  gently  melted  against  the  blue  of 
the  sky;  and,  with  our  own  little  Bibles 
open  on  our  laps,  We  used  to  look  at  it 
silently  a  long  time;  and  twice  I  over- 


is 


I — 


ji    I 

i      I 


jl  I 
ill' 


214 


THE  HERMITS 


If ! 


heard  Hal  say  low  to  himself:  "Almost 
like  that,  but  not  quite." 

Once  he  pretended  he  had  no,t  spoken, 
and  once  he  did  not  even  hear  my  question 
of  what  he  meant.  And  so  I  came  to  know 
that  his  big  brown  eyes  did  not  always  see 
me  when  they  were  turned  upon  me— 
knew  that  my  friend,  my  chum,  my  bro- 
ther hermit,  had  a  secret ;  and  so  tears  came 
into  the  cave. 

It  was  too  bad,  a  secret  kept  from  me! 
And  I  had  told  him  every  secret  I  had, 
and  every  secret  anybody  else  had  that  I 
knew  anything  about.  He  was  quick  to 
see  something  was  wrong,  but  he  was  quite 
stupidly  slow  in  learning  what  was  wrong, 
and  I  was  too  proud  to  ask  for  his  confi- 
dence. So  the  hermits  were  for  a  time 
tempted  to  abandon  their  cave,  their  date 
diet,  and  their  intended  close  compar- 
ative study  of  the  writings  of  Buddha  and 
a  Chinese  gentleman  of  the  old  school  to 
whom  I  always  referred  as  "  that  Mr.  Con- 
fusions." 

We  had,  however,  agreed  to  study  our 
Sunday-school  lessons  in  our  cave,  and  that 


"  Almost 

o,t  spoken, 
y  question 
ne  to  know 
always  see 
ipon  me— 
a,  my  bro- 
tears  came 

;  from  me! 
Tot  I  had, 
had  that  I 
s  quick  to 
e  was  quite 
i^as  wrong, 
r  his  confi- 
for  a  time 
,  their  date 
;e  compar- 
►uddha  and 
i  school  to 
a,t  Mr.  Con- 
study  our 
i^e,  and  that 


THE  HEBMITS 


215 


simple  fact  saved  our  partnership  a»  her- 
mits from  being  dissolved.  We  studied 
our  verses  against  time  and  each  other. 
Then  we  took  turns  at  hearing  each  other 
recite  our  lessons ;  and  one  day  I  said  sud- 
denly :  "  Oh,  how  I  do  wish  some  one  would 
tell  me  how  the  apostles  looked !  Somehow 
I  can't  see  them— at  least,  not  to  feel  sure 
of  them." 

And  Hal  gave  a  jump  that  nearly  took 
him  out  of  the  cave,  and  said  quickly :  "  I 
can  tell  you,  Carrie.  They  looked  exactly 
like  a— a—" 

He  stopped,  he  turned  his  head  away, 
he  pretended  some  one  was  calling  him. 

Then  I  was  angry.  "  That 's  right !  "  I 
cried.  "Stop,  don't  tell  it,  whates^er  it 
may  be !  Don't  trust  Carrie— little  tattler 
and  tale-bearer ! " 

I  leaned  my  forehead  against  the  side 
of  the  cave.    I  burst  into  racking  sobs. 

"  K-e-e-p— keep  your  secret !  I  d-d-don't 
want  to  hear  it !  And— and  you  can  keep 
your  old  cave,  too— and  pl-ay  hermit  all 
b-y  yourself— and  nev-QV  tell  your  se-cret 
to  any-body!" 


216 


THE  HERMITS 


! 

I 


. 


Poor  Hal !  he  tried  to  whistle  (the  boy  is 
father  to  the  man),  but  he  could  n't.  With 
his  left  hand  he  raised  my  head  and  laid 
it  back  against  his  right  shoulder.  Then 
he  took  up  the  corner  of  my  apron,  and 
with  most  kindly  intent  began  to  smear 
my  falling  tears  all  over  my  grieving, 
dirty  little  face,  while  between  dabs  and 
jabs  at  special  single  drops  he  begged 
me  to  stop.  "Oh,  Carrie,"  he  entreated, 
"  canH  you  stop  ?  Don't  you  know  how  to 
stop  I  There 's  no  secret,  Carrie !  There 's 
s-o-m-e-thing— yes— I  wanted  to  tell  you, 
too— honestly  I  did— but— but  I  was  just 
afraid  you  'd  laugh  at  me— and  "—in  a  low, 
tense  tone— "I  don't  believe  that  I  could 
hear— to  hear  that  laughed  at." 

I  sat  up  and  looked  at  him,  and  very 
seriously  he  returned  my  look. 

"Mother  knows,"  he  said  slowly,  "and 
I  'm  going  to  tell  just  you  in  all  the  world, 
and  no  one  else.  I  'm  not  afraid  now  that 
you  '11  laugh,  Carrie." 

He  drew  up  his  leg  and  clasped  his  arms 
about  it.  He  looked  straight  before  him. 
His  eyes  were  wide  and  bright;  he  was 


bhe  boy  is 
't.    With 
.  and  laid 
di\    Then 
pron,  and 
to  smear 
grieving, 
dabs  and 
le  begged 
entreated, 
ow  how  to 
!    There 's 
3  tell  you, 
I  was  just 
—in  a  low, 
at  I  could 

,  and  very 

)wly;  "and 
the  world, 
d  now  that 

d  his  arms 
)efore  him. 
t;  he  was 


THE  HERMITS 


217 


very  pale;  his  delicate  nostrils  quivered 
faintly.    There  was  a  moment's  pause. 

Looking  back  to  that  moment,  I  tell 
Hal's  little  story  as  he  told  it — all  the  in- 
cidents in  the  exact  order  in  which  he  gave 
them. 
Without  turning  his  head  he  said  to  me : 
"You  remember  how  very  hot  it  was 
three  Sundays  ago,  Carrie?  Well,  after 
Sunday-school  was  out  I  went  to  church 
with  mother.  The  heat  was  dreadful, 
and  my  head  was  heavy  and  achy. 
Mother  ofl^ered  me  a  fan,  but  I  wonld  n't 
have  it — it  never  makes  a  feller  any  cooler 
to  sit  and  pound  himself  with  a  fan.  But 
all  I  could  think  of  was  the  big  old  elm- 
treo  where  we  play  *  oasis,'  and  you  sell  me 
water  for  my  caravan  from  the  desert. 
I  could  j"st  hear  the  leaves  moving,  and 
I  knew  what  a  big  coo]  shade  they  were 
making—and  they  all  had  their  heads 
down  at  prayer.  No  one  would  notice,— 
and  even  if  lather  heard  of  it,  he  never 
punished  me  on  Sunday,— and  it  was  only 
three  blocks  to  the  elm ;  and  so  I  moved 
very,  very  quietly— no  one  looked  up.  And 


I 


218 


THE  HERMITS 


next  moment  I  was  blinking  my  eyes  out 
in  the  sunshine,  and  wondering  if  ever  the 
sun  had  blazed  like  that  before. 

"I  walked  for  a  while,  but  I  found  no 
elm ;  instead,  there  stood  an  old  white  wall 
with  a  great  wide-open  gate  in  it.  I  passed 
through  it,  and  only  then  I  noticed  that 
everything  was  strange  to  me.  I  was  n't 
frightened,  but  I  was  puzzled;  and  the 
heat— oh!— and  the  sky— not  one  tini- 
est, thinnest  little  skim  of  white  cloud 
filmtv*.  the  deep,  deep  blue.  On  still,  hot 
days  our  lake  almost  reaches  that  blue, 
but  not  quite— not  quite.  I  was  thirsty, 
very  thirsty ;  and  though  I  passed  melon- 
gardens,  and  saw  grapes  hanging  over  a 
wall,  I  dared  not  touch  them.  I  looked 
and  looked,  but  could  see  no  familiar  elm, 
and  the  chain  of  distant  hills  made  me  feel 
small  and  lonely.  Then  suddenly  I  heard 
a  burst  of  laughter  and  the  patter  of  run- 
ning feet,  and  I  turned,  and  saw  coming 
from  a  garden  gate  a  troop  of  children, 
the  two  eldest  ones  carrying  large  jars. 
They  were  not  only  bare  of  foot,  but  of  leg 
as  well,  yes,  and  of  arm— half  naked,  in 


i  I 


THE  HERMITS 


219 


^es  out 
ver  the 

and  no 
ite  wall 
[  passed 
ed  that 
was  n't 
md  the 
le  tini- 
B  cloud 
till,  hot 
at  blue, 
thirsty, 
.  melon- 
over  a 
looked 
iar  elm, 
me  feel 
I  heard 
of  run- 
coming 
children, 
ge  jars, 
at  of  leg 
aked,  in 


fact.  They  were  a  black-haired,  black- 
eyed,  red-lipped,  sweetly  laughing  crew; 
and  though  they  were  greatly  excited 
over  some  matter  of  their  own,  they  called 
me  gaily  to  go  with  them  to  the  well, 
where  the  water  was  cold  and  the  grass 
velvet-soft  to  burning  feet.  And  there  I 
slaked  my  thirst  and  found  deep  shade, 
though  no  elm  cast  it. 

"There  were  trees  strange  to  me,  and 
some  bore  fair  fruit.  I  knew  the  oak  and 
guessed  the  palm,  and  on  our  way  to  the 
well  I  had  seen  in  full  rosy  bloom  a  very 
thicket  of  wild  oleander. 

"We  had  found  a  girl  already  at  the 
well,  and  before  she  went  she  took  from 
her  basket  a  handful  of  loose  grain,  pursed 
up  her  lips,  swelled  out  her  round,  brown 
throat,  and  in  imitation  gave  the  cooing  of 
the  doves,  then  cast  the  grain  abroad.  I 
had  not  dreamed  there  was  a  pigeon  near, 
but  instantly,  through  sunshine  and 
through  shade,  came  the  down-slanting 
gleam  of  their  darting,  silveiy  wings.  Yet 
no  one  noticed  the  pretty,  greedy  things, 
with  their  rosy  feet,  their  jeweled  ?yes,  and 


,    fl 


i         I 


220 


THE  HERMITS 


their  dainty  affectations  of  eager  search 
and  extreme  hunger— so  exciting  was  the 
conversation  at  the  well. 

"  One  boy  declared  his  father  was  going 
to  take  him  down  to  the  very  sea,  next 
Siibbath,  that  they  might  hear  the  Man 
for  themselves,  since  no  two  people  seemed 
to  talk  alike  of  him;  and  then  all  broke 
out  and  chattered  at  one  time. 

"  Not  far  off  ran,  white  in  dust,  the  pub- 
lic way,  and  many  people  journeyed  by  it ; 
and  many  turned  aside,  as  much  to  get  the 
hot,  white  dazzle  from  their  eyes  as  for 
rest  for  their  feet  and  cooling  di^aughts  for 
their  parched  throats.  But  always  there 
was  excitement  in  the  air,  and  each  man 
added  to  it.  The  high,  the  low,  the  rich, 
the  poor,  gently  or  angrily,  delicately  or 
coarsely,  they  spoke,  but  always  of  one 
person.    One  subject  held  all  minds. 

"An  old  man,  fat  and  red  and  hot-looking, 
with  great  jewels  burning  on  his  fingers, 
and  strange  head-gear,  who  left  his  ser- 
vants and  the  animal  he  rode  out  in  the 
blazing  heat  while  he  sat  in  comfort  by 
the  densely  shaded  well,  declared  the  Man 


I     ^li 


"wShk.^ 


THE  HERMITS 


001 


search 
vas  the 

s  going 
a,  next 
le  Man 
seemed 
I  broke 

le  pub- 
i  by  it ; 
get  the 
as  for 
^hts  for 
s  there 
3h  man 
le  rich, 
tely  or 
of  one 
s. 

poking, 
ingers, 
is  ser- 
in the 
ort  by 
le  Man 


a  monstrous  fraud.  *0h,  yes;  he  had 
heard  the  tale  of  sight  restored,  and  the 
sick  healed,  too.  Yes,  yes ;  he  knew  that 
hundreds  vouched  for  the  truth  of  those 
wild  tales.  But,  mark!  He  should  be 
seized  and  cast  in  prison  for  healing  on 
the  Sabbath!  The  Sabbath,  mind!  — 
breaking  the  law— failing  to  keep  holy  the 
Sabb^tih  day.  Let  him  and  his  rabble 
come  but  within  his  city's  gates,  and 
straight  into  prison  the  lawbreaker  would 
go.'  And  as  he  bestrode  his  weary,  unre- 
freshed  beast  and  went  his  way,  men 
frowned,  and  jeering  little  boys  made  con- 
temptuous signs  at  his  broad  back,  while 
talk,  all  broken  and  confused,  burst  forth 
again— one  rousing  astonishment  by  re- 
peating the  names  of  those  most  recently 
baptized;  another  expressing  his  timid 
doubts  because,  see  you,  the  Man  had 
not  appeared  in  pomp  and  princely  state, 
as  should  the  One  whose  coming  the  pro- 
phets had  foretold ;  while,  with  her  sturdy 
boy  riding  in  state  astride  her  hip,  a 
handsome  woman  told  again,  and  yet 
again,  with  every  foolish  detail  of  hour 


222 


THE  HERMITS 


\i 


and  place,  of  garments  worn,  of  height 
and  depth  and  quality  of  the  jars,  how 
she,  a  guest  at  that  fair  marriage-feast, 
had  seen— herself  had  seen— the  won- 
drous miracle  of  water  turned  to  wine. 

"The  loiterers  had  mostly  gone  their 
ways,  all  save  some  women  with  their 
water- jars  and  their  children.  And  now, 
in  looking  across  the  open  country  toward 
some  houses,  low,  flat-roofed,  and  white, 
one  saw  the  quivering  of  the  air  above  the 
heated  earth;  and  't  was  then,  just  then, 
that  I  felt  first  that  lightness,  that  bright- 
ness, that  reasonless  desire  to  laugh,  to 
sing— oh,  to  sing  from  my  very  heart ! 

" My  heart !  why,  what  ailed  my  heart? 
I  pressed  my  hands  hard  upon  my  side  to 
hold  down  its  high  beating,  and  at  that 
moment  such  a  strange  thing  happened! 
I  had  only  known  our  summer  birds  to 
sing  in  the  early  moaning  or  late  evening 
coolness,  remaining  silent  through  the 
heat ;  yet  here,  all  suddenly,  birds  before 
unseen  burst  forth  in  rapturous  song. 
They  came  from  everywhere— from  distant 
eaves,  from  sheltering  boughs,  from  tan- 


THE  HERMITS 


223 


leight 

;,  how 

-feast, 

won- 

wine. 

their 

their 

now, 

)ward 

w^hite, 

VG  the 

then, 

right- 

?h,  to 

t! 

leart  ? 

ide  to 

that 

ned! 

ds  to 

ening 

the 

efore 

song. 

stant 

tan- 


L 


gled  thicket,  or  from  grassy  hollow.  They 
flung  into  the  air,  as  might  a  fountain 
fling  its  spray,  a  shower  of  living  music. 
Twittering,  piping,  trilling,  warbling,  each 
softly  ruffling  throat  at  fullest  strain,  each 
little  eye  half  closed  in  ecstasy,  they 
gave  in  praise  all  they  had  to  give,  then 
sank  down  in  silent  adoration.  For  mov- 
ing toward  us  from  the  great  highway 
there  came  a  group  of  men.  One  of  them, 
at  least,  walked  clumsily,  for  he  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  great  cloud  of  dust ;  and  one 
shambled  as  he  came,  as  might  a  weary, 
yoke-worn  ox.  Grave  men  they  were, 
some  even  stern  and  fierce  of  eye,  with 
roughened  hair  and  beards  untrimmed, 
and  hands  all  swart  and  scarred  and 
stained  with  roughest  labor;  while  all 
the  tones  of  burnished  copper  glowed  in 
the  hair  and  beard  of  one,  and  the  red 
spark  that  gleamed  in  his  quick,  small  eye 
was  but  partly  veiled  by  his  drooping  lids. 
"So  far  I  noted.  Then— ah,  then  the 
group  had  paused,  and  from  the  center 
there  came  forth,  as  from  a  prickly  protect- 
ing outer  shell  the  white,  sweet-kerneled 


I 


224 


THE  HERMITS 


:l 


nut  might  come— there  came  forth  a  Man, 
strong  and  sweet,  beautiful  and  grave. 
The  golden-bruwn  waves  of  his  hair  were 
darker  than  the  silky  beard,  whose  light 
growth  but  softened  the  lines  of  his  di- 
vinely perfect  face.  His  garments  fell  in 
stately  folds  about  him,  and  their  white- 
ness, without  blemish  from  wayside  or 
from  road,  seemed  dazzling  in  contrast  to 
the  blueness  of  his  great  flowing  mantle. 
Yes,  there  came  forth  a  Man  to  marvel  at. 
But  as  he  moved  toward  the  stone  seat  by 
the  well,  he  slowly  raised  his  eyes.  The 
quivering  of  the  hot  air  stilled ;  the  teem- 
ing earth  held  its  warm  breath  in  awe. 
My  soul  rushed  to  the  very  parting  of  my 
lips,  for  this  was  the  Joy  of  the  World ! 
Here  was  the  Son  of  God!  I  could  not 
think  at  first— I  could  only  feel  the  joy, 
joy,  joy !  And  then  at  last  I  noted  others, 
and  knew  my  thought  was :  *  Would— oh, 
would  he  let  me  follow  him  V  If  I  could 
do  some  service  for  him— something  hard ! 
But  I  was  so  little,  yet. 

"He  was  seated  by  the  well,  and  the 
group  stood  apart  from  him  and  spoke 


I 


r 


. 


\ 


THE  HERMITS 


225 


low  among  themselves ;  and  I  almost  un- 
consciously began  to  approach  the  Man: 
for  "^  I  longed,  yearned,  to  touch  him— 
once,  jUst  once,  to  see  once  more  the 
tender  fire  of  those  death-conquering  eyes. 
And  lol  the  other  children  were  crowd- 
ing toward  him,  too— their  eyes  big  and 
bright,  their  half-breathless  lips  apart.  I 
saw  and  hastened.  I  was  almost  beside 
him  when  a  little  toddling,  speechless 
thing  of  dimples  and  soft  laughter  passed 
me  in  a  baby  rush,  two  little  arms  beating 
the  air  to  aid  her  stumbling  feet.  She 
wavered  forward,  caught  his  hand,  and  he 
laid  the  wee  thing  in  his  bosom.  At  that 
we  all  swarmed  forward  eagerly ;  but  two 
of  the  group  stepped  quickly  out  and 
frowningly  waved  us  off,  the  stern  one 
speaking  cruel  words  to  us.  But  they  were 
never  finished.  He  raised  the  white 
wonder  of  his  hand  and  silenced  them. 
He  turned  the  tender  fire  of  his  luminous 
blue  eyes  on  us,  and  then  he  spoke. 

"  I  heard  his  voice !  I  felt  that  my  eyes 
were  straining,  my  heart  bursting— that 
joy  was  killing ;  but  still 't  was  joy.    For, 


fl 


226 


THE  HEItMITS 


i  1 


;^ 


clear  and  sweet,  the  whole  world  listen- 
ing heard  the  blessed  words :  *  Suffer  little 
children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them 
not!' 

"  He  held  his  gracious  arm  out  to  us.  I 
rushed  forward.  I  was  almost  at  his  sacred 
knees— a  hand  held  me  back.  The  baby  in 
his  blessed  breast  smiled  gravely  at  me. 
I  struggled  madly  against  that  restraining 
gi.isp,  and  then  a  voice  said  in  my  ear: 
*  Hairy,  remember  where  you  are  I '" 

His  head  sank  on  his  breast ;  tears  ran 
like  rain  down  his  boyish  face. 

"Carrie,  Carrie,"  he  whispered,  "mo- 
ther says   it  was— was— just  a  dream." 

I  slipped  my  arm  about  his  neck;  rev- 
erently I  kissed  his  cheek  and  answered: 
"Hal,  Hal,  it  was  a  vision— a  blessed 
vision ! " 

And  he  was  comforted. 


ston- 
little 
:hem 

IS.    I 

cred 
)yin 
me. 
ling 
ear: 


ran 


mo- 
rn.'' 
•ev- 
ed: 
sed 


